For Want of Something Better
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Adam, older and jaded with life after the war, saves a beautiful and seductive young girl from a sordid life-but what to do with her? Strong language and adult situations. No copyright infringement is intended; all recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. Original characters and plots are the property of the author.
1. Chapter 1

1

I have heard it from my family, my friends and even passing acquaintances who feel as if everyone's business is theirs. They are all of the opinion that as a man of thirty-seven, I should be married with children and I suppose they're correct; that does seem the way life should be lived. There are certainly enough husband-hungry widows and single women in Virginia City for me to find a wife among them—should I wish to do so. In the past, I have come close a few times to marrying but there was always something that I felt—or should I say, didn't feel—when I held the woman in my arms. It was their slight resistance, their holding back—for the sake of their reputation I'm sure, and I'm enough of an egotist to want a woman to give herself to me freely, willingly and with a hunger and desire to make me feel wanted. But it was never there and so I would end it. The idea of day after day with a woman who didn't encourage passion in me, who didn't arouse the heat in my blood, well, better to end it before the relationship went too far and many times, I was already out the door before I was ever fully in their parlor. It left many females in Virginia City and its environs with a poor opinion of me—not completely underserved.

But I have certain ideas of the kind of woman I want in my life and in my bed. It's not as if I've only lived here in Virginia City and limited myself to the narrow choice of women here. When I was back east at college, I met many young women but again, the seed of love was never there but I was also young and wasn't particularly inclined to tie myself to a wife. I have also traveled widely in Europe and even though my purpose wasn't to find a mate, a "cara sposa," I secretly hoped that some French mademoiselle or Italian signorina would catch my eye and in due course, my heart. But no, although I did enjoy the many continental and diverse pleasures they had to offer.

And then there was the war. I entered the Union Army in 1864, two years before the end but it was enough to change me, to destroy my soul. I experienced so many horrors that I still relive in my dreams—and even during my waking hours. I'll smell a familiar odor such as flint being struck, a smell linked with battle and the memory of bodies blown apart by cannon fire comes rushing back, or the weather will look a certain way, the way it did while my patrol was marching through mud and cold and I'm there again, tried, hungry, lice-infested and miserable. So many men died and I lived. Nevertheless, it's difficult to live fully when part of yourself is stuck in past atrocities that you yourself ordered, even committed with your own hands.

And now I find I'm back on the homestead, having resigned myself to a life of increasing the family's wealth as well as my own, and taking my pleasures when I can; life only offers so many and no more. And yet, my father still treats me as his son who needs guidance through the morass of social requirements. Fuck society.

"And what was wrong with Melissa?" my father asked, pacing the room while I tried to enjoy my brandy-laced evening coffee. "She's a wonderful woman, gentle and church-going and with two of the nicest, polite children a person could find anywhere. And she's pleasant to look at."

"She is all that, so why don't you marry her, Pa. I mean the Chinese elders use their grandchildren to warm their old bones at night—you could use Melissa—much more pleasant that sleeping with one of Joe's two boys."

"I don't need your sarcasm—not now, not any time. I'm trying to have a serious conversation here. Adam, you're going to be forty soon…"

"I know how old I am, Pa, and I'm aware that in all this time, I haven't yet met a woman to marry—and when I think about all the times I almost did marry, well, if I believed in divine intervention, I would think the hand of God stopped me. But since I don't—I was just lucky. Luck I believe in."

"Did it ever occur to you that they might be one and the same thing?" He scowled at me.

I had to laugh at that—my father had out-thought me. "I suppose they could be, Pa."

What was really stuck in my father's craw was that of his three sons, only Joe, his baby son, had married. Joe's wife, Aggie, was a pretty, little blonde who birthed twin hellions, Ike and Jake, who I swear were spewed forth from the very bowels of hell and should probably have been drowned at birth like ill-formed puppies. Not only that, but Joe was hen-pecked beyond redemption and many times I was down-right embarrassed for him. Joe would look at Hoss and me and give a small, apologetic grin whenever Aggie ragged him about anything and then he would do just as she asked.

"I'd have to tell her to shut her goddamn mouth iffen she was my wife," Hoss said one evening as we rode home from a spontaneous dinner at Joe's; he had invited us after a day checking line

I just smirked. "You know what uxorious means?" I asked.

"Hell, Adam, I don't even think I could say it?"

"Well, that word describes a man who is excessively submissive to his wife. And that's our brother Joseph."

"Well, why you think that is, Adam?" I raised my brows at Hoss and then he grinned. "Yeah, a man'll do most anythin' for that." And Hoss is right about that. There's not much a man won't do for just a few minutes of pleasure between a woman's legs.

"But we're going to hear it from Hop Sing for missing his dinner and eating at Joe's—and there's no reward for ducking our heads and letting his tongue whip us like Aggie does little brother." And Hoss and I both laughed. We knew that our pa had borne the brunt of Hop Sing's furrowed brow and complaints about food gone to waste and cold potatoes, over-cooked roast and coagulated gravy many a time over the years. So we kicked up our horses.

I truly enjoy Hoss' company—never met a man who didn't. My brother is a man of large appetites and enjoys his pleasures of all types—food, women and drink. He is convivial, generous and always takes up for the underdog—a trait that has landed him—and Joe and me in more trouble than could be imagined.

I had thought that quality had left me as I had come to realize that people seldom acknowledged any charitable act, especially if they are the underdog, and if they did, it was in preparation to ask for another favor. But unfortunately the trait hadn't cleared from my bones as I had thought, and the quality of mercy—which according to Shakespeare, is never strained, lived on in me, much to my surprise.

I always knew it would be my downfall.


	2. 2

**Any expressed bigotry by any character is for characterization purposes only and reflect the beliefs held by many at that time. Please remember the time frame in which the story occurs.**

2

There is another part of me that also precludes my marrying and inflicting my unsavory habits on a good woman causing her grief; upon occasion I have a "nostalgie de la boue," a yearning—as the phrase translates—for the "mud," for decadence, for depravity and to wallow in the sensual pleasures that a woman of a particular profession can offer and such a weakness is unacceptable in a married man. I therefore have convinced myself that I should refrain from marrying to save some honorable woman the humiliation of finding that her husband prefers to spend occasional nights in the arms of a well-schooled "soiled dove."

When younger, I would visit one of three brothels in Virginia City because being callow, simple pleasures took on an exotic tinge but now that I'm older, there seems to be no variety in the act and the women are not as exciting as they once were. New women come and go but they are so prosaic and the act so predictable that I once considered that I may as well marry—the climax would be the same.

But then, in my 37th year, a new gambling salon, "The Crown," was built in Virginia City. It was even grander that "Julia's Palace," an early attempt to reproduce the grand salons of New Orleans and a final tragedy in itself; but that is irrelevant now. The new place was a casino downstairs and offered some of the sophisticated games of chance offered by casinos in Europe—faro, roulette, baccarat, black jack, poker and the Chinese game, keno-a sucker's game, in my opinion. Upstairs were neat, well-kept rooms—no sordid cribs-where a man could take one of the women who worked there and fulfill any of his fantasies with a most-willing partner—all of whom were guaranteed to be disease-free. I once, just to get a rise from him, asked Paul Martin if he had a favorite among the working girls he examined at The Crown and he blushed beet red. I just laughed—but I did apologize.

The owner of The Crown was a Thad Murfee, a powerfully-built older man who also owned a similar, popular salon in Sacramento City and in Chicago; apparently he traveled among all three establishments, gathering his lucre, I'm sure, and rubbing his hands together in pure avarice. The Virginia City establishment, The Crown, catered to the more refined clientele and an ordinary cowboy stinking of manure and sweat was thrown out and told to get a bath and proper clothes before he would be allowed in.

I always dressed in a suit and brocade vest with polished boots and a brushed hat. I know that whenever I descended the stairs of our house dressed in that manner, it took all of my father's self-control to keep from telling me that Thad Murfee was a blight and a pestilence on Virginia City, encouraging even more gambling and whoring and that fine clothes on the patrons did nothing to change that. But he never did, at least not directly to me.

It was a calm summer evening and I was dressed and on my way to town.

"Feelin' lucky tonight, Adam?" Hoss asked from the settee, his stockinged feet on the table before him. He grinned. He had once confided that he felt uncomfortable in "The Crown." He would rather play poker at The Sazarac—the stakes were less—and he preferred the "big ol' gals" at Bertha's Place to anywhere else; they, for one thing, didn't require a man bathe before seeing them. He just preferred to have a few beers, roll on a woman, roll off and then have a few more beers and not spend more than ten dollars.

"Wasting your money tonight," my father mumbled under his breath but loudly enough for me to hear it as I headed to the door. He smoked his pipe and read his paper, not looking up.

"Want to come, Hoss?"

"Nope. I prefer to hold on to my money a little bit longer."

"I don't see how you can gamble your money away…" my father started but he said no more as I buckled on my gun belt. A patron had to check his gun at the door of The Crown to avoid a bad-tempered loser from shooting the faro dealer but I still had the ride to town. Besides, my wallet was full of my hard-earned folding money and I might need to defend it.

It was the first time I was at The Crown and playing poker—a game over which I feel I have some control—and the loveliest woman sat on the arm of my padded chair. There were no bare-boned wooden chairs here nor tables with water rings, scuffs or holes from some cowboys' bastardized version of mumblety-peg where they used their hands on the tabletops instead of their feet on the ground. The place was plush with brocade, brass, marble, maple and mirrors. I first had my suspicions that the mirrors might be placed in such a way as to give any dealer a way to see the players' cards so I was always careful where I sat.

So that night, I was playing my cards, holding them close to my chest and Saffron, the woman's name, perched on the right arm of my chair. She had retrieved my chips for me once I was seated and stayed by my side, keeping my glass filled with Kentucky bourbon and leaning down upon occasion to let me kiss her full bosom for luck. She had earlier whispered about the unearthly delights she would provide later should I so desire so I slipped ten dollars in her cleavage to put a "hold" on her and she stuck by my side, even allowing my hand to slide up her thigh to the promising moistness of her cleft. I know her purpose was to disturb my concentration but fortunately, I could still slide my palm over the smooth skin about her garter and keep the raises and bets in order.

I had won a large amount and Saffron and I were about to take the winding staircase upstairs when a large man motioned for Saffron to leave and she reluctantly did, standing a polite distance away.

"I don't take too kindly to your sending the young lady away," I said. I braced my stance in case I had to defend myself since it crossed my mind that the establishment might be averse to my winning such a large amount; I had more than doubled the $500.00 in chips I had when I sat down.

"Mr. Murfee would like to talk to you," the man said. He wore a cutaway jacket and a black tie and starched white shirt but he was obviously uncomfortable in the finery—like mule in race horse trappings-and his face looked as if it had taken a few poundings over time; I'm sure that he had given a few as well.

"Who the hell is Murfee and why would I want to talk to him? And who the hell are you?"

"I'm Mitch and I work for Mr. Murfee who is the proprietor of this establishment and he has a business proposition for you. You are Adam Cartwright, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. But what business is that of yours or Murfee's." I turned and crooked my finger and Saffron came back to my side, looking cautiously at the man. I slid an arm around her waist. We started up the stairs. I spoke over my shoulder to the thug, for that's what he was, "I have another business proposition, a far more pleasant one, to handle at the moment. And unless Mr. Murfee cares to bend over and spread his ass cheeks for me, he can just wait until I'm finished with this beauty." And with that, I slowly took the stairs, Saffron clinging to me.

"You best watch out for Murfee—you don't want him as an enemy." I smiled at sweet Saffron, warning me about the man who was to her, so powerful.

I smiled at her and chucked her under the chin. "He doesn't want _me_ as an enemy." And then we walked into one of the bedrooms with a small Chinese woman waiting inside who bowed and smiled. Then she pulled down the scented sheets and helped Saffron prepare to entertain me and I didn't give Murfee another thought.


	3. Chapter 3

"Adam, this come for you." Hoss tossed the envelope at me while I was eating my favorite dinner-pork chops and fried apples; I was shocked that he had left his food long enough to answer the door but I had refused to rise.

I had heard a gruff voice at the door so I asked who had brought it. Hoss said that if was so interested, I should have gotten my ass up to answer the door. Then as Hoss sat back down, he said that it had been some man in a bad suit.

It was a note from Murfee asking me to drop by The Crown that evening about eight—to discuss a business proposition. I considered not going except that my curiosity was piqued, if by nothing else, Murfee's signature made me wonder about him. It was an elegant scrawl with a swirl underneath to give it emphasis—Thaddeus Murfee—almost too showy but then it's what I would expect from the owner of such a grandiose business. Or from a pimp.

I told my pa and Hoss who had continued to eat while I read the missive but had stopped all conversation until I had finished, folded the paper and laid it on the table, that Mr. Murfee, the owner of The Crown, wanted to talk business with me.

"What kind of business could you have with him?" my father asked with obvious disapproval. I let it go by. I knew he had been trying to treat me less as a son and more as an equal partner so I was determined to behave less as a son who bridled at any criticism. With so much behind me, I think my father was just happy I was alive and veritably unchanged—at least on the surface. I hadn't told him of my night terrors or my attitude on the inherent cruelty of man—that we all have that primeval beast within us that will rise to the surface under the right circumstances and rip out the enemy's throat. I didn't confide in him how I had marched with Sherman's men strung out for miles, sweeping across the southern countryside and burning as we went, leaving women, children and old men, white and Negro, homeless, terrified and bereft. I didn't tell him that despite orders to leave the citizens unmolested and not to loot, the generals and other officers looked the other way as the Union soldiers stole silver and jewelry and upon occasion, satisfied themselves with the body of a young woman—or not so young. It all depended on what some thought they could accomplish. Some soldiers struggled under their load of loot which became a burden. I, as a captain, tried to keep my men in order but there was only so much I could accomplish; I wasn't a mother hen and they weren't my chicks. And as a lieutenant told me, "All southerners are hostile combatants and they're lucky we don't put a bullet in their brains."

"I don't know that I have any business; he just wants to discuss some," I replied.

"Think it has anything to do with the Chinese?" Hoss asked. He looked quickly to make certain that Hop Sing hadn't heard. It was a touchy subject around the Ponderosa, especially since the Tong, in an effort to have more financial power and clout in the west, took advantage of the fact that there were far more Chinese men than women. The wealthiest of the Tong had begun to import Chinese girls, paying their passage and then forcing them into prostitution once they arrived. What to Hop Sing had once been innocent games of Fan Tan or Mah Jong had now been taken over by organized gambling gangs and while men guarded the doors of the back room games, their arms crossed and guns and knives in their swathed waistlines, tall, muscular Chinese man in western suits walked among the players to ensure there was no cheating—or excessive winning; the innocence was gone.

"Wouldn't surprise me," I told Hoss, "only I don't know what he could think I can do about it?"

The _Territorial Enterprise_ had lately been full of stories about the immigrants from the "Celestial Empire" as they called China, who were starting trouble. It seemed that the owners of the Chinese whore houses were waging war against the bordello owners of Virginia City in order to keep them from hiring any Chinese workers—whores or staff. But with the Chinese, the whores weren't stabled in a building as a normal brothel was, but basically put in one of a row of pens facing the narrow streets in Chinatown and a man with the key stood nearby to take the money and unlock the door to let the man in. The pens weren't large enough for a person to stand up and the young girls would sit in front of the barred window of her pen on her pallet so that the men could judge her desirability. Then, he would motion to the guard who would unlock the door and the man would crawl in a do his silent business, pay the guard and leave while the girl waited for the next customer.

Sheriff Roy Coffee was unable to control the hostilities between the Chinese pimps and the "round eyed" madams and pimps of Virginia City, which were conducted under the cover of night; a man could have his throat slit and his body left in the bloody mud of an alley and no one would even report it except for the person who tripped over the corpse in the morning or saw it when they tossed out a slop pot—and even that might not be cause enough to report it. Many people just turned a blind eye. And every so often a Chinese man would be found on the outskirts of Chinatown with a well-placed bullet between the eyes

Finally Roy had to hire another deputy besides Clem Foster.

"I tell you, Adam," Roy said to me one afternoon a few weeks ago as I passed the time with him on the walkway in front of the Sheriff's office, "It's getting so that Virginia City is really two cities—one for the white and one for the Chinese and no matter what happens, those Chinese don't let me in to solve any crime. I could really help them but they just don't trust me."

"Why don't you hire a Chinese deputy," I suggested. "Might make it easier."

"What if he's loyal to the Tong, maybe even being paid by them? I mean things used to be different but the Chinese, well they handle their own justice and Hai Tung is the new boss, or so I heard."

"Oh?" That was news to me. "What happened to Chao Chen?"

"A farmer dragged his body in town tied to the back of his wagon. Found Chao's body in his potato field, split open like a fish—gutted too. The man, a homesteader by the name of Marlowe, said that he went out to see what the crows and buzzards were about and saw the body and beside it, a pile of guts and the man's heart along with his balls and prick. He said that so many ants and flies were on it that he had to poke it with his shovel to figure out what it was. Apparently, if a Chinese person—male or female—isn't buried intact, all his body parts together, it's some kind of dishonor or something like that and if he's mutilated—well, that's how he spends his eternity. So to answer your question, Adam, he's dead. From what I can find out, the new Tong leader, that Hai Tung—is a mean one. Knowing about him even makes me try to keep my back to the wall."

That did give me pause and that very night, I wandered into the kitchen after dinner and watched Hop Sing washing the pots and pans. I poured myself a cup of coffee and then leaned against the butcher block and watched him.

"What you want, Mistah Adam?" He glanced at me nervously. Actually, now that I thought about it, Hop Sing had been edgy all week and not as annoyed with small things as he usually was; it was as if his mind was on something bigger.

I scratched my ear and then sighing, asked. "What about this new Tong leader—Hai Tung, I think?"

Hop Sing muttered in rapid Chinese and then spat on the floor. I guess he can do so; he mops it.

"I hear he's a powerful new boss, been bringing in plenty of Chinese girls to work the brothels."

"Hop Sing not know about that." He continued to scrub a roasting pot that already looked plenty clean to me.

"I also hear that he's trying to break up any casual, back room Fan Tan games. That true? Is that why you haven't been gambling lately?"

Hop Sing turned to face me. "Hai Tung come from big city—he speak English and Chinese and he bring many men with him. He take over Tong—kill Chao Chen and wife and two sons, three grandsons—kill all—make Chao two daughters work in pens. We know Hai order it done—everybody know. Then Hai Tung make all girls work for him." Hop Sing paused, weighing how much to tell me. "Hai Tung dangerous man. He take part of all gambling rooms' money. If he not like—Hai Tung kill—slit throat, cut belly open like hog." The last two were emphasized with Hop Sing's index finger pulled across his throat and up his torso.

"I see." I walked over and put my hand on Hop Sing's shoulder. He was afraid, truly afraid—I could feel it. Things were shifting in Chinatown and an underworld was developing that threatened to suck down the older generation such as Hop Sing and his relatives. "Let me ask you something, would the law have any place there? Could we get a finger-hold?"

"Not white man law. Only Chinese law—that law given by Tong but Tong not same. Mistah Adam, all Chinese know who run all things now—shops pay money to Hai Tung—what known as 'cut'. They pay or shop burned to ash. Bad times in Chinatown now."

I was disturbed by what Hop Sing had told me and I feared for him and had trouble sleeping that night. I was used to violence and cruelty but this was something I didn't understand and that was what disturbed me the most. I know about power and that it must be held mainly by threats and unexpected acts of violence; one must strike down any attempts at insurrection and I suppose that Hai Tung knew that as well. He was taking over.

So a few days later, Roy informed me that he had taken my suggestion and hired a young, second-generation Chinese man named Hang Lu, who was as eloquent in Cantonese as English. He went by the name of Luke and Roy depended on him to act as interpreter and also to inform Roy of any alien customs or beliefs that he and Clem as ignorant round-eyes might break and therefore, unknowingly offend. But Luke told him that the "Whore Wars" as the newspaper coined them, was inevitable and that there wasn't much that Roy Coffee or Luke or Clem or anyone else could do about it.


	4. Chapter 4

4

I had dressed for my meeting with Murfee and slipped a small derringer in my jacket pocket—I believe in taking precautions, especially when dealing with the unknown. I approached the man who stood just outside the entrance to The Crown that I was there to see Thaddeus Murfee—at his invitation. He nodded and told me that I was expected. He ushered me inside, letting another man know I was there and next thing I knew, a middle-aged, plump woman whose ample breasts seemed to be struggling to free themselves from the modest bodice of her dress, ushered me into an office where I was offered a comfortable seat and some very good brandy.

"May I know who my most genial hostess is?" I asked as I sipped the drink. I noticed that her artificial curls pinned onto the back of her hair did not match the rest of it—two shades too light.

"I'm Mrs. Nancy Mason. I take care of the girls, you know, make sure they're clean—both mind and body-and not holding back." I knew what she meant—she made certain the whores were not only disease-free but also opium-free—and that they gave the major cut of the fee to the house.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Mason." All madams and former madams went by "Mrs." whether they were or not; it gave them a sense of respectability, at least in their own eyes. I drained my class and Nancy immediately filled it again. I appraised her. She may have once been pretty, even beautiful, but now-and I guessed she was my age, late thirties or early forties-she was thick around the waist and beginning to get jowly and her hair had streaks of gray among the artificial gold. But she was a lucky one to still have a job at her age; most whores her age were trolling mining camps or waterfronts looking to turn a trick for two bits.

The door opened and two men walked in. Mitch, I recognized; he was still as fuckin' ugly as the last time I saw him and still dressed in an uncomfortable suit. The other man was older than I by about ten years and wore a well-fitting suit. His hair was also gray and he motioned with his head to Nancy and she quickly and quietly left.

"Well, Mr. Cartwright, thank you for coming. I'm Thad Murfee, the owner of this establishment. " We shook hands and tried to evaluate each other as far as how formidable the other might be, and I sat back down. Mitch guard stood at the door looking as disagreeable as a man could while Murfee poured himself a drink and offered me a cigar. I figured that I might as well enjoy myself so I took one, bit off the end and lit it while Mitch glowered. And so we began.

"Cartwright," Murfee said, "As I said in my letter, I have a business proposition for you." He settled into another leather chair and puffed on his cigar. "I thought that we could have a gentlemen's agreement—nothing on paper, just our word given to one another."

I just sat and sipped my brandy and smoked my cigar. Between us was a small table with fine crystal bowl used as an ashtray.

"I assume that since you're here, you're interested." I still didn't say anything and I could tell that Murfee was becoming uncomfortable; he shifted in his chair.

"First, you're making an assumption that I'm a gentleman and what I infer is that the 'business' is not, how shall I put it-licit-since you want no paper involved." I waited.

Murfee chuckled uncomfortably. "Well, in my line of business, it's best not to have anything that can be attributed to one. But since you are here and enjoying my Cuban cigars and fine brandy, I assume you are interested in my proposition. I regret that I could not go into details since it would require my making the information available to others if you chose to share the information therein."

"I'm more curious than interested," I replied, "but I would prefer to discuss any business without your asshole in the room?"

Murfee grinned and dismissed Mitch who reluctantly left the room. "He is imposing—very loyal to me since I saved his ass a few years ago during the war—he deserted and I gave him sanctuary in my whorehouse in Chicago." He puffed on his cigar. "I heard you were in the war, Mr. Cartwright. Fought for the Union. Quite the hero. You were decorated, weren't you? Valor—I've heard you were quite the hero—saved a whole platoon. "

"Yes." That's all I said; I did not want to elaborate because for one, I didn't want to think on it and for another, it was none of the bastard's goddamn business—and I felt the fury rise in my throat that he had been ferreting out information about me; I was determined though to remain calm and in control. "Just what is the business you think you have with me?"

I had been mulling it over ever since I received the letter and the only thing I had been able to think of was my winnings; casinos didn't like it when a patron won too much. Then I wondered if Murfee thought he could blackmail me, that he had a piece of information from Saffron about my sexual tastes, the things I required she do to earn her money, so I was surprised when Murfee stated what he wanted.

"I have a young girl—a real beauty-and I want to sell her virginity to the highest bidder."

I laughed. "I have no interest in a virgin."

"Really?" He looked sidelong at me.

"Really." I stood up and knocked the ashes off my cigar. I was finished with him and his business proposition. I wasn't one to have anything to do with human trafficking although I did know that women were forced into the sex trade and that I suppose I was complicit by patronizing places such as The Crown. But fortunately, I didn't have many scruples left—the war and life had seen to that. It's an interesting fact that the things that you once told yourself you would never do you find yourself doing and all the moral baggage you once carried drops away. It's a wonderful freedom.

Murfee scratched his neck. "I may just have to give her to Hai Tung then. I kinda wanted to avoid that." He knew he had me with that comment.

"How did Hai Tung get into this?" First, I saw no way that the Chinese Tong boss could play into this scenario, although granted, I hadn't really tried to see any connection, and second, I couldn't believe that Hoss has actually suggested that the business with Murfee might have something to do with the Tong; Hoss is so rarely correct.

"Sit down, Cartwright…please." Murfee extended his arm to invite me to sit so I did. I was also interested now in the matter of the virgin and the Tong and what connection in this whole fuckin' world I could have with either of them.

But Murfee looked serious and his voice was tinged with desperation so I sat back down but didn't relax, leaning forward uneasily. "Five days ago, one of my girls was killed—her body was dumped in the alley like some animal carcass. She was killed in a pretty horrible way—seems she was alive when she was-eviscerated, and it looks like they passed her around before they did. The next day, another girl was killed—looked to be the same way—the same thing. Now I'm getting nervous, right, and all my girls are beginning to cry and the fuckin' whores all want to leave and go back to Sacramento or Chicago. I about have to take a whip to them and have Mitch slap a few sane again to get them back to work. I hire two more men and they're on watch the whole time. Third morning, another one in the alley but this time there's a note. It said that until I paid the Tong for the two Chinese whores I have working for me, I'd lose another girl each and every day. Those Chinese fuckin' bastards had to kill three of my whores as if one alone wouldn't get my attention." Murfee stood up and shoved one hand into his waistband and began to pace. He was incensed but I could tell he was afraid as well—he had that slow, creeping, icy fear that unmans a person.

"None of that involves me but it seems easy enough to settle. Tell Sheriff Coffee about it and then keep your girls in their rooms."

Murfee turned to me and I saw that look in his eyes, the look that reveals a real horror. "They had been in their rooms. All the girls were taken from the house without a sound; the third one, Janine, while business was going on. She was between johns and when she didn't come down, Nancy went up to get her—nothing. She just wasn't there. The next morning—there she was-in the alley."

Murfee slugged down his brandy and poured himself another drink. I watched him sweat; he was nervous—and afraid "There was another part of the note. It said I can pay Hai Tung the whores' worth which he puts at twenty-five hundred each—like any cunt, especially a yellow one is near worth that much—or I can give him a white virgin to make up the balance—a blonde, white virgin. Someone must have seen the girl here and let him know. It seems that this son-of-a-bitch Hai believes that he can get quite a bit of money for a white girl. I'd imagine he'd even sell her to someone in San Francisco; I hear there are plenty wealthy Chinamen in San Francisco; they run their part of the Tongs there and battle for control all the time. Looks like that might even start here. I have two days to give Hai Tung—or his delegate, as he added-the money or the girl or they'll kill more of my stable."

"So you think that I'll pay you $5,000 to save some helpless virgin from being turned over to a Chinese pimp and pull your chestnuts out of the fire?" I chuckled and shook my head. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

Murfee shrugged. "I think you will and I even think you'll pay seven, five to settle with Tung and another two to take the girl away with you. I can get more if I put her in the auctioneer's block—so to say. Think of it-you can do whatever you like with her in the privacy of your own bed on the Ponderosa. She's virgin territory and you can teach her whatever you want—the whore of your own making—the whore of your dreams."

I shook my head in disgust and rose to leave. "You are one sick, fuckin bastard, Murfee. And as for paying for some girl, I don't think so. I'll spend my money on a woman with trained hands and a talented mouth." I started to walk out when Murfee called for Mitch and my hand went to my hidden derringer. I was prepared for trouble but instead of Mitch threatening me in any manner, he walked in and with a hand on her back, guided into the room a small, young girl in a sheer silk nightgown; it was obvious that she had been asleep; her face was soft from slumber and her hair tousled about her angelic face. And when I saw her, I sucked in my breath; she was indeed a beauty with long, wavy, flaxen hair and large, brown eyes which she turned on me. I was doomed—I knew that. I knew I would pay the money-not to have her as my own, but to save her.

Don't misunderstand me—I didn't feel a complete lack of desire but I didn't want to throw her down and take her either. I was aware she was a girl just on the cusp of becoming a stunning woman-but she was so delicate, so fine-boned and she seemed to incandesce in a manner; her pale skin glowed in the lamplight. No man could remain unmoved by her yet at the same time, help but feel self-disgust at the hunger she aroused; no man wants to admit that he could feel any way but avuncular toward a girl young enough to be his daughter, but damn it all, she was delectable and she frightened me for that reason alone.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Murfee said. He stood beside me smoking his cigar, considering her and had a grin on his face.

I ignored him. "What's your name, girl?"

"Tallulah Mason, sir."

"How old are you—and don't lie?" She had yet to take those seductive eyes off me.

"Fourteen, sir," she quietly answered. Her small hands were clasped together but through the silk, I could see her small rounded breasts and the beginning of the triangle between her legs. I felt as if I were sinning just by looking at her.

"And you're going to sell her to the highest bidder or hand her over to Hai?" I asked Murfee without turning my head to him.

"I've gotta make peace so that business can go on as usual and I can't afford to lose any more girls. Hell, they're all terrified; soon I'm going to need a rifle held on them just to make them earn their keep."

"Where did you find her?" I didn't even want to look at the girl but I couldn't take my eyes away as long as she continued to stare at me, to appeal to me with that guileless gaze. I wondered what she had been told, if Mitch had said that I was there to buy her.

"One of my girls in Chicago didn't take proper precautions and hid her swelling belly until it was too late for pennyroyal. She died giving birth and this girl was such a beautiful baby that I took her; Nancy's raised her up to now and taught her a thing or two—maybe even three." He chuckled lasciviously, expecting me to join in but I didn't find it amusing." I think the father was a big Swede who used to visit her mother regularly. Apparently they were supposed to be married—dumb fuck, wanting to marry a whore—but he was killed. It was a big mystery how."

"Yeah, I'll bet it was." I was pretty sure that Murfee knew exactly who had killed the Swede and how since he was probably the one to have sent the killer.

"Good thing she wasn't a boy," Murfee added. "I got no use for boys although I could've sold a young boy to someone, I guess—some rich men like a pretty boy and as pretty as she is, if she'd been a boy, he'd be beautiful too. But now, she's like a ripening peach. I was saving her for my own bed but…well, I guess I'll just have to part with her. I'd rather give her over to someone like you than give her to Hai—or have him just steal her away one night."

I wondered why Hai Tung hadn't taken the girl, hadn't stolen her in the night but then I figured, perhaps the girl was ensconced in a place his men couldn't easily reach or…he really wanted the money. Opium cost a good deal and the Chinese whores were kept placid and tractable with doses of it.

"What if I go to Sheriff Coffee, tell him all this?" I didn't want to sound threatening but I also didn't want to sound like a fool by not asking the logical question.

"Let me ask you, Cartwright-what do you think would happen?" He took a puff on his cigar, holding the smoke in his lungs before he let it out.

I knew what would happen—nothing. Roy would try, Clem would try, Luke would try but Murfee could deny that he had any intent for the girl except to raise her properly as she was his ward and if they approached Hai, he would deny everything, that is, if they managed to find him in the maze of streets of Chinatown. That was the problem with the law; one had to have proof of wrong-doing and when it came to intent-well, intent was just that—intention, meaning that nothing had yet been done so how can it be proved if it doesn't yet exist.

Murfee walked to Tallulah and stroked her cheek. She looked up at him with her large eyes and smiled tremulously. "I hear those Chinese really like blondes," he said but it wasn't to her—it was to me.

"I'll give you seven thousand tomorrow but I take her with me tonight."

Murfee grinned. And I was disgusted with myself; it seemed that I still had a sense of right and wrong, still felt responsible for the innocent. Damn it all to hell. Doesn't a conscience ever die?


	5. Chapter 5

I don't understand it, especially after having faced down the enemy on the battlefield, but as old as I am, I still don't like facing down my father and he was waiting downstairs for me after I settled Tallulah in a room. He had not been pleased when I came back from Virginia City with a young girl in tow and although he was kind to her, he kept glancing at me—waiting for an explanation. I told him that I would explain after I took care of the girl. Hoss also stood open-mouthed when I brought her in and introduced her. She was polite and so were they so maybe it was just me who felt so uncomfortable—but I doubt it.

Tallulah had so few belongings that it had taken her only a few minutes to pack them to leave The Crown and then I had to stand uncomfortably by while Nancy hugged the girl and kissed her brow and said a tearful goodbye with the admonition to be a good girl. It seemed that I was the only one who saw the irony in that statement.

Downstairs, Hoss was waiting with a small smile on his face. So I poured myself a whiskey and proceeded to explain the whole dirty business. Hoss' smile vanished and my father looked troubled as well.

"Well, of course, you did the right thing, Adam, but seven thousand? That's steep. I tell you what—I'll kick in half. It's the least I can do but she can't stay here. I can't have that girl in the house—and it's not because of the Tong. A young woman doesn't belong here, especially one who, I mean…"

"It's my folly—I'll pay the whole amount. Besides, a good portion of the seven thousand I won from Murfee gambling. I didn't think I could be so easily suckered in but I was. And as for her staying here, I don't want it any more than you do, Pa."

Hoss relaxed back into his chair and crossed his legs. "Adam, I'd do just what you done. That sweet, little thing needs help. Why just the thought that that somabitch Murfee was going to make that girl his own whore…"

"Hoss, all whores were girls once." I paced back and forth, drink in hand. "I just should have let Murfee do what he wanted—what he needed to do. Damn him to hell for dragging me into this."

My pa cleared his throat and put up his hand. That was his long-standing gesture to indicate that he was going to settle everything and believe it or not, I was glad. I had no ideas; I was too upset with having committed to give seven thousand dollars to that bastard Murfee and now having that girl on my hands, well, I was confounded. I had no idea what type of relationship we should have. I had never been in a position like that before. Tallulah was too young to romance and too old to treat like a child—and she was so beautiful.

"She's here so we need to focus on what we're going to do with her. Like I said, she can't stay here. I don't know how she might behave around men, around us or the hands, seeing that…well, I would assume that…"

"That she thinks of all men as customers," I finished. I knew that was what my father was thinking and Hoss as well as he ducked his head.

"She does have a way of lookin' at a man," Hoss said. "Kinda makes you feel dirty 'cause of what you're thinkin' 'bout—you know, like iffen she was older what you'd like to do to her and maybe, well, maybe..." Hoss left the rest unspoken.

Pa said nothing but I sighed. Hoss was right; she gave me sordid thoughts and because of that, I was more determined to keep her at arm's length. But I did wonder if I would feel that way if she were a neighbor's daughter or just a girl who sat in a church pew every Sunday. Maybe it was knowing her background that gave a man shameful thoughts. But If I was sixteen again…I wondered if I'd pull her down on the straw in the barn and slide my hand up her dress.

"Why not make her your ward, Pa? The daughter you've always wanted." I hoped he would accept and then I could be rid of any obligation toward Tallulah.

"So you can wash your hands of all this? Oh, no, and she is the not the daughter I wanted! You brought her here—she's your problem, not mine. I'll help but I won't take responsibility for her.

I wished I had never gone to see Murfee or laid eyes on Tallulah. And she was just up the stairs…so close I could almost hear her breathe. I thought of her pale face and her dark eyes looking at me, exhorting me but for what I didn't know.

"I've never been a father…" I started.

"Not that you know," Hoss added, grinning.

I ignored the remark. "I've never been a father but you have."

"Of boys. I raised you three and it was struggle every day. How could I raise a girl? Especially one that's so close to being grown. No. I won't take this on. If she should be anyone's ward, she should be yours." Pa pointed his finger at me—the resolute finger, the damning finger.

"Suppose I do take her as my ward. Just suppose. I agree she shouldn't be here. The Ponderosa is no place for a young girl. She needs a woman to teach her things, to raise her…to…take care of hygienic matters." I looked at Pa and Hoss and they averted their eyes. Cowards. They both didn't even want to consider the possibility of Hop Sing complaining about having to wash bloody rags each month. "Fortunately—or unfortunately, she already knows the facts of life. Or maybe I'm just assuming that."

"Tomorrow, after you pay, Thaddeus Murfee, that damn whoremonger, go see Hiram. I'll go with you—to Hiram's, that is. We can ask what needs to be done, if there are papers or such, to make Tallulah your ward unless….well, maybe…do you think we could adopt her out? We had no trouble finding a family for Gabrielle a few years ago. She's happy now, beautiful, and Brad Sexton is courting her."

Hoss snorted. "What you gonna say, Pa? Gonna stop by the Ladies' Church Guild meeting and ask, 'Ladies, how'd one of you like to adopt a half-grown girl who was raised in a whorehouse?"

I couldn't help but smile; it would be problematic finding Tallulah a home in Virginia City. Besides, I wasn't comfortable with having her remain in town or even here. Hai Tung might still abduct her in the night and for some reason, the idea filled me with dark dread.

"What about marryin' her off?" Hoss asked. He looked at me with his clear blue eyes and I could see that he was serious.

"Now that is something to consider," my pa said with fresh encouragement.

"She's only 14," I said.

"Yes," Pa said as if tht was a plus, "and most girls her age are either going to or already have dropped out of school to marry. You know that, Adam. Why Susan Bennis has two children and she's only just turned 16. Rod's ten years older than she is and they seem to be happy."

"And in five more years, Susan'll look ten years older than Rod. No, Tallulah's too young and besides, I can't see letting some farmer get his hands on her and mount her like his bulls do the cows. No. Tallulah deserves better."

Quietly, my father asked, "And why do you think that, Adam?"

Both he and Hoss looked at me expectantly.

"I just…I don't know why but the idea of her being a wife at such a young age…I know, what if I send her away to a girls' school."

"Hey," Hoss said sitting forward, that's a good idea. Kinda solves everything, don't it?"

Pa sighed. "That'll solve things in the future, once you have found the right school, and once she's through with her schooling, she can be out on her own, but what about now? It'll take a while to apply to a school and have her accepted." Pa sighed at the obvious conclusion. "In the meantime, I guess she'll have to stay here. What do you think, Adam?"

I didn't quite know what to say. Tallulah made me uncomfortable and the ride to the Ponderosa had been an example at just how inept I would be as a guardian of a blossoming beauty, especially one who affected me so and made me want to groan with unfulfilled desires.


	6. Chapter 6

I had rented a cabriolet in town; I woke up Handy at the livery and he pissed and moaned about the late hour as he hitched up the little two-wheeled buggy moving slower than I thought was humanly possible. I gave him an extra dollar for his trouble and refrained from telling him to go fuck one of his horses. I tied my horse to the back of the buggy and picked up my "burden" from the alleyway entrance. Tallulah sat sedately beside me on the ride to the Ponderosa. But halfway there, she looked to me and quietly asked, "Am I to be yours?"

I was flustered; I hadn't expected a question like that and had no answer so I did the best I could. "No, you're no one's. I just…" I didn't know what to tell her. I have no issue bullshitting most people when it calls for it but I found that I couldn't lie to her. For some reason, I wanted Tallulah to think highly of me.

"But Mr. Murfee sold me to you, didn't he? The girls had always told me that I was going to be Mr. Murfee's when I became sixteen but now I'm with you. Is it because you want me when I turn sixteen? Nancy has been teaching…"

I moved as far away from her on the seat as I could and stopped her from going further; I was sweating like a stallion sensing a mare in season. "Now listen to me, young lady. I didn't 'buy' you—I just paid Mr. Murfee for your room and board for all those years up to now. Both he and I decided that it would be better for you to leave there because, well, bad things might have happened to you if you stayed there."

"You mean Hai Tung?" I was a little surprised she knew but then I considered that in a houseful of women, of course they would talk to one another about everything. That made me wonder what else Tallulah had seen or heard in her 14 years.

"No, well….I plan to find you a nice home with a nice family and you're going to live a normal, happy life the same as any other young girl your age." I hoped that would end it and I suppose I expected her to thank me.

But that wasn't the end of it. First she was female and second, she was a child. "Why?" she asked. I couldn't help but think of all the times I had asked my Pa that when I was young. Why did we have to move again? Why had my mother died? Why did people suffer? Why were some people rich and some people poor, some handsome and some ugly? Now I understood his frustration at my constant queries.

"Just…don't ask questions. It's late and I'm tired." I knew I was being blunt, maybe even hurtful but I wanted her to be quiet; I had enough to think about other than trying to explain my motivations. After all, I wasn't clear on "Why?" myself.

Tallulah said nothing, just looked ahead. She was wearing a small hat with a plaid bow and a traveling suit that a woman would wear; I couldn't help but think that she looked like a child playing dress-up. The juxtaposition upset me; she was as seductively beautiful as any woman and yet she was a mere slip of a girl.

Then in a small voice Tallulah asked, "Is there something wrong with me?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. Even in the dark I could see her lower lip tremble.

"No one seems to want me. I have no family except Miss Nancy and she told me that one day men would want me but you don't. You want to give me away to someone else." Then she turned to look at me and my heart melted at her sad expression. "I know my mother died because I was bad so I've tried to be good—all the time I try. I do what I'm told and I know what it is that men expect. Why are you so different? Why don't you like me? Have I done something to make you dislike me so?"

"Tallulah, I don't dislike you it's just that…wouldn't you like to have a mother and father and maybe even sisters, people who love you? You could live on a farm somewhere or with a family…" I started to say "in town" and suddenly I realized what a bad idea that would be. She might be inclined to return to the only life she knew, the only people she knew if she lived in close proximity to The Crown and it also put her too close for my liking, to Chinatown and Hai Tung.

"And your mother didn't die because you were bad, no matter what someone may have told you. My mother died at my birth as well." I don't know why I shared that with her; it wasn't usually a topic of my conversations as it was too private, too painful.

"But you aren't a bastard. Bastards are bad people. I hear bad people called that name all the time." Tears coursed down her cheeks and I sighed in despair.

"Tallulah, I…Tallulah, 'bastard' is a legal term, it doesn't mean anything except…" I was lost. I felt that I was mucking about in a quagmire of emotions—mainly mine. How could I tell her that she was beautiful and delightful and had so much ahead of her? I couldn't. I imagined that Tallulah was struggling with being taken from the only life she knew by a stranger who was spiriting her off into an unknown world. And her only 14. "Tell you what, Tallulah, you'll get a good night's sleep and we'll talk about things in the morning, okay? You'll meet my father and one of my brothers who live at the Ponderosa and they'll…help."

She wiped tears away with a gloved hand. "Help with what?"

I realized that I had no idea—I just wanted her to stop crying. "With whatever is troubling you."

She turned those eyes of hers on me and asked, "Why can't you be my family? Why can't you love me?"

"I'm not your family. I'm just…a friend. That's all." And I had nothing to say for the rest of the ride home and I knew she was silently weeping. I felt helpless.

And that night and for many weeks after, every time I closed my eyes trying to sleep, Tallulah's sad face and plaintive plea haunted me: "Why can't you love me?" Oh, Tallulah, I could, I could. I saw her as the delectable woman she would soon be and my blood would heat up at the thought of her in a man's bed as his wife—or his whore. I knew I had to send her away and the sooner, the better—for us all.


	7. Chapter 7

Pa waited at Hiram Wood's office while I went to The Crown with seven thousand in script. I was quickly ushered into Murfee's office even though I had to knock repeatedly before someone answered the front door; I figured they were extra-cautious that morning and it made me edgy.

The place was quiet. Granted it was early but usually there were a few whores stirring about but all was still; with the drapes drawn to shut out the light, the building had a funereal aspect. Murfee sat at his desk, nervously smoking a cigar while Mitch stood behind him and across from them stood two severe Chinese men dressed in traditional garb. I guessed they were both in their twenties and wondered if they had knives or guns up their wide sleeves; their faces gave away nothing.

"Well, Cartwright," Murfee said standing up, "I'm glad to see you. I suppose you have the money?" He was sweating profusely and yet the Chinese men were placid and cool. I handed Murfee the money and with his back turned to the two Chinese, he counted out two thousand and slipped it in his jacket pocket and then handed the rest over to one of the Chinese men who stepped forward to receive it with a small bow of acknowledgement. We stood in silence while he counted the money. Then he nodded to the other man, they both bowed toward us and walked out. It was as if the room sighed in relief.

Murfee dropped into his chair, pulled out his handkerchief with shaky hands and wiped his brow. He opened the bottle of whiskey on his desk and poured himself a drink, spilling a bit. It was then I realized just how scared he had been and I was surprised he hadn't pissed himself. "Can I offer you a drink?" he asked me.

"No. Is this the end of it?" I waited, unmoving. I was determined to show no affability since I didn't appreciate his having pulled me into this and taken me for the money.

"I sure as hell hope so. And I'm damn glad that you're a man of your word, Cartwright. Those sons-of-a-bitch would probably slit my throat if you hadn't come when you did—I mean I didn't have the money or the girl for them and I've been waiting on you for the past hour. I told them the money was coming. They didn't say anything more but just stood there—waiting-and staring at me. Damn. Reminded me of vultures waiting for death"

"You didn't tell them Tallulah was on the Ponderosa, did you?" I braced myself. If he had, Mitch or no Mitch, I was going to have Murfee experience my full displeasure.

"Hell, no. I didn't tell them anything about her and they didn't ask. All they said was that they were there to settle the debt I owed to the Tong—the fuckin' money or the fuckin' girl." He shook a finger at me. "And my suggestion is keep Tallulah the hell out of town. I don't trust that Chinese bastard, Hai. Be just like that cocksucker to want it all and go back on our deal."

I said nothing more, just turned and left the office but as I passed through the hall I heard my name and then felt a hand on my arm from behind. It was Nancy.

"Please, how is Tallulah?"

I paused, considering just what I should tell her. "She's doing well but I think she misses all of you; she's been quiet—doesn't say much."

"Yes. When Tallulah gets upset she becomes quiet like that. What's to become of her?" Nancy was sincere in her concern; I saw no guile in her face to indicate she was trying to ferret out more information for Murfee about Tallulah's future whereabouts and my intentions.

"I'm not sure about the future, but rest your mind; I'll see that she's taken care of and that she has everything she needs."

"Yes, that's important—but she's young and what she needs the most is someone to guide her, to be kind. I need to ask you—if you're taking her to your bed, please be gentle, will you?" I moved away from her a bit; I was surprised that she would ask me such a thing but then, after consideration, I suppose it made sense. "She's pure," Nancy added. "I know it may seem a lie since she was raised by me in a brothel for her whole life but she is. I shielded her from what I could and she knows about men but then…she doesn't really; some men can be so cruel and like to hurt. And no matter what you have in mind for her, I'm glad she's with you and not here for Murfee's bed."

Nancy waited. I decided that she was sincere in her concern and that I should—in kindness if nothing else—reassure her. "I'm on my way to my lawyer's; I'm having Tallulah made my ward, not my whore."

Nancy visibly showed her relief; her shoulders dropped and she let out a deep sigh. "Thank you, for that, Mr. Cartwright." She held onto my arm again and patted it with her other hand. "Oh, in case you need to know, her birthday is January 2, 1854—for records and such. And thank you for taking Tallulah away, Mr. Cartwright, and tell her that I asked after her, will you?"

I promised Nancy that I would and left for Hiram Wood's office.


	8. Chapter 8

Fortunately, by the time I reached Hiram Wood's office, my father had already explained the situation with Tallulah Mason—at least what he knew.

"Well, this is quite the situation," Hiram said with obvious disapproval. "Your father explained that you want to send this young girl to a boarding school but becoming a legal guardian has ramifications beyond just paying for tuition. Are you aware of all that?" He had various papers on his desk and two law books open. Apparently he had been looking up my "ramifications."

I had no patience with Hiram—never had. I felt that for a lawyer his thought process was exceedingly slow; my pa said that it was because Hiram was careful, he thought out everything before he made a move. I replied that Hiram was slow because first he had to pull his head out of his ass and since it was jammed so far up there, it took a while. My father didn't appreciate it.

I waved off Hiram's concerns and explained in detail just want I wanted done. Hiram listened—for once- and he said he would draw up a paper—he placed his hand on a form on his desk- stating that I would be responsible for Tallulah and her assets and debts.

I found this whole business was making me short-tempered. I had this seductive, lush young girl at the Ponderosa and I spent most of my time considering how easily I could make her mine. Fourteen may be young but girls were married and often mothers by then; out here it wasn't anything unusual. So I just wanted her gone as quickly as possible and I didn't care what it took—exigency was my top concern.

"She has no debts, Hiram," I said, "and she has no assets beyond her meager belongings. I told you, she's just an orphan—a simple orphan-and I will see to her education for the next four years and then she's on her own and I'll have nothing more to do with her. All I want is a paper that I can present to a school so they will accept me as her guardian—accept my money, I'm sure-and then accept her. Is that so difficult?"

"Look, Adam don't treat me like an idiot!" Hiram rose out of his chair as I was standing and pacing while my father sat in one of the fancy leather chairs in Hiram's law office. My father sighed in frustration; Hiram and I didn't care for one another.

"Well then don't act like one. Damn it, Hiram! I just want a simple piece of paper that has some legal authority. That's it! End of it. That's all you have to do."

Hiram shook his pen at me. "I have a good mind to have you thrown out. In the past, I have tolerated your arrogance for your father's sake…"

"For my father's sake? You mean for the Ponderosa's legal fees." I knew my accusation wasn't completely true. Hiram had been my father's friend as well as his lawyer for many years and he had been instrumental in drawing up concise contracts that couldn't be broken but I myself had learned how to do that so the Ponderosa's dependency on him had lessened. Nevertheless, my father still paid Hiram a steep retainer fee every year to keep Hiram at our beck and call but I had usurped many of his duties.

"Please," my father said standing up. "It's the girl we are concerned with." Both Hiram and I quieted but I could see that Hiram was seething. It had always annoyed him that so many years ago I had proved Joe's innocence when he had been accused of murder while Hiram missed the exonerating evidence right under his nose—even missed the actual killer who was his own law clerk. I never brought the case up but it was always there and so Hiram felt uneasy around me. Actually, I think he felt fucking incompetent.

"Hiram," my father asked, "if you would please do us the favor of drawing up some sort of legal guardianship for Adam over the female minor, Tallulah Mason, I would appreciate it. If you'd like me to wait, it would be my pleasure. Adam needs to search out a girls' school for her—a boarding school so while he goes and does that, I'll wait unless you would rather we come back another day."

I wanted to interrupt and say that I didn't want to wait another day; I wanted it done now but held back; it was a Herculean effort.

"I'd prefer you wait, Ben. I already have the basic form; I just need to fill in the details and you know as much as Adam—it seems. But Adam will have to return in about an hour to sign. My clerk can notarize." Hiram sat back down and I started to leave but then turned.

"Won't you need her date of birth?" I asked with a slight smile. "My father doesn't know that." Hiram looked at me, his jaw tight. Pompous asshole, I thought. "It's January 2, 1854." I turned and walked out of the office. At least I had gotten in the last volley.

I went to the Library to see if there was a list of schools for girls anywhere and the Librarian, Miss Hettie Lawson, a most unfortunate woman with a face like a hatchet and a voice like a cackling hen told me about the St. Agnes School for Girls in Baltimore. The daughters from the wealthier families of Baltimore attended but they also took in boarders. Perhaps, she had asked, that was the type of school I had in mind. I knew she was pushing to find out why I would be interested in a girls' school but I merely thanked her and walked down the street to the telegraph office and sent a wire to the school, informing them that I and my "ward" would be arriving in a week to visit the school and apply for admittance. I asked for the reply to be brought out to the Ponderosa immediately and tossed a five dollar gold piece on the counter. Byron, the young telegrapher smiled and with a "Yes, sir. Right away," scooped up the coin. It's good to have money; it makes people so much more accommodating.

And as Pa and I rode back home, the papers of guardianship in an envelope tucked in my jacket's inside pocket, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't even know if Tallulah could read. So that night after a tense dinner, where I avoided looking at her—so ashamed of my thoughts about her was I, I sat Tallulah down at the round table we had and placed paper and pencil in front of her. I placed a volume of Shakespeare's plays on the table as well. Pa, was reading his newspaper and Hoss was repairing a bridle; they gave their best pretense of not listening but they were.

"Have you ever been to school?" I asked Tallulah, sitting close enough to see what she could write but not too close. She was wearing a simple dress of gingham and her hair was pulled back with a grosgrain ribbon and she was beautiful.

"No. sir," she answered quietly.

"Can you write the alphabet—both upper and lower case?"

Without saying anything, Tallulah picked up the pen and dipping it into the well, she began to write her alphabet, the upper case letter followed by the lower. I stopped her at "L."

"Fine." I flipped open the book of Shakespeare's plays and turned to a random page."Read a section." I pushed the book in front of her.

Tallulah looked up at me with those eyes that seemed to see through to my rotted, dissolute soul. "Yes, sir," and then in her sweet voice, for it was sweet—lilting and pleasing—she began to read the lines on the page. But a few lines in, I began to think that random chance wasn't so random after all.

"You do impeach your modesty too much,

To leave the city, and commit yourself

Into the hands of one who loves you not,

To trust the opportunity of night

And the ill council of a desert place

With the rich worth of your virginity."

She looked up at me, puzzled, and my stomach knotted as to what Tallulah was going to ask.

"Are they in a desert like the ones out here?"

I sighed a bit in relief. "No, it just means that it's a place not populated with people—like a desert has no people." Seeing that she was reading from _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ I explained that the characters, Demetrius and Helena, were in a forest and therefore, there weren't people around except for them—or so they think.

"Oh." Tallulah seemed puzzled a bit and then asked, "Is Demetrius saying that Helena is foolish to trust him with her virginity since there are just the two of them? He says that he doesn't love her but according to what Nancy told me, love isn't…"

I slammed the book shut with a bit too much finality—Tallulah jumped slightly and I then asked her if she knew her numbers, if she could add and subtract. She assured me she could do simple sums and then I suggested that she go to bed despite the fact that it was not yet 7:30. She obediently did as I asked and said good night to Pa and Hoss and to me and then went upstairs. Then Hoss began to laugh—low at first but soon he broke into guffaws.

"What's so goddamn funny?"

Hoss pointed at me, still laughing. "Your face…I ain't never seen you look so scared afore in my life!" Hoss continued to laugh and I noticed that my pa was suppressing laughter as well.

"Well, I'm glad that you two are so entertained. I am now officially through with her. I wash my hands of the whole thing. I'll give her back to Murfee with my blessings and he can do as he wishes with her." I started upstairs and while Hoss sobered, my father called me back. So I turned, my hand still resting on the bannister.

"Adam, before you do anything that you may regret, remember that Tallulah's only a young girl and one who has been raised in circumstances that were far from wholesome. What do you expect from her? Look at yourself. Look how being in battle affected you—a grown man already having received and given love and pity and mercy in your life. Look how it's hardened you? You don't even have mercy for a poor, lost girl. She is depending on you and you want to abandon her."

Hoss looked down; I think he was embarrassed for me but my father never dropped his eyes. I glanced back and forth at them. "I don't want to be responsible for another person, especially one like her, she's too…needy."

"Well, what do you expect from her? Who does Tallulah really have any more but you?"

"She has you and Hoss…" I wanted so much to turn Tallulah over to them to take her care away from me but I knew they wouldn't. I couldn't just ride out one day and leave her at the Ponderosa with my father and brother. And then I remembered her tears on the ride from town and how she was desolate because no one wanted her. And now I didn't want her for my own selfish reasons. It was because I was in constant turmoil; she was a temptress whether she knew it or not and I was weak. I knew I would never give in to my desires as far as she was concerned but I also didn't want, didn't need the constant struggle.

"All right. All right. I'll see Tallulah enrolled in a school and then, I really don't want to see any more of her. But I'll stay with it." And I felt weary as I rose upward on the staircase as if carrying a heavy weight; responsibility for another being is a brutal burden.


	9. Chapter 9

Ike and Jake, Joe's twin boys were in the yard tormenting Hop Sing's chickens, chasing them and trying to pluck their tail feathers so they could make Indian headdresses. The fowl squawked and Hop Sing squawked while running around in the yard with a cleaver; I don't know if he was going to behead some chickens for dinner or the twins.

"I can't believe you, Adam!" Aggie said, outraged. "I can tell you one thing though—I don't want that girl near my boys."

Like I said, Aggie was a pretty little thing but she annoyed me to no end. Her father had been a prominent banker in his prime and she still walked around straight and proud—Hoss said that Aggie walked so straight because she had a stick up her ass. She might be able to cow Joe with the threat of denying him her cunt but she had no influence over me. "That's your choice," I said, "but just what is it you think she's going to do to them?" I watched her as her anger and frustration built; it was amusing.

"It's not that," She said, furiously. "It's just the idea that a girl raised in a….a place like that—why she has no right to be among decent people. I can't believe you brought her here! Why it's already all over town! And at church today…oh, I was mortified to learn that you had a whore living with you!"

Joe placed a hand on his wife's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. "Now, Aggie, you heard how she came to be here. I don't think that letting the boys eat Sunday dinner with her at the table is going to cause any harm."

"I can't believe either of you—any of you. None of you see anything wrong with having that girl here. Why…for one thing, she's a bastard and you know what it says in the Bible—bastards can't gain entry into the congregation of the Lord nor ten of their generation!"

"Maybe not," I said. "I'm not going to get into an argument over dogma, but Tallulah can sit at our dinner table and just as you and the boys are always welcome, so is Tallulah." I surprised myself for feeling so defensive about her. "Perhaps you should consider showing some 'charity'; I think that's mentioned somewhere in the Bible as well. I promise you, Tallulah won't taint Ike and Jake. Matter of fact, it might work the other way around."

"And just what do you mean by that?" Aggie was furious and practically flew at me like the mythological harpy.

Joe was sweating; Aggie did put him in a state. "Adam's just teasing, Aggie," Joe said. "You know his sense of humor. He'll apologize, won't you, Adam?" Joe looked at me, pleading with me.

I smiled as graciously as I could summon. "Yes, I'm sorry, Aggie. It was a little joke and I apologize if I upset you. Nevertheless, if you don't care to sit at table with Tallulah, I understand. She is a polite, well-mannered girl and has voiced no objection at breaking bread with either you or the twins."

Joe dropped his head. Then he looked up at me with, "Can't you just give a simple apology?"

Aggie, her mouth tight, snarled, "No, he can't. You always have to tag on something snide, don't you, Adam? Makes me wonder if all those things they're saying in town are true." Then she looked at me as if she had fired a final volley.

Tallulah had been here a little more than a week and I had barely conversed with her and yet I would defend her against Satan himself—and Aggie-but I didn't have a chance to say more because Pa interrupted and declared that we should stop arguing; Tallulah was here and would be until she left for school. He assured Aggie that all would be well and that he hoped she would stay for dinner; he saw her so rarely that he would be unhappy should she take the boys and leave. After tomorrow, Tallulah would be gone. And then Pa looked at me.

I had received a wire from The St. Agnes School for Girls saying that they would be more than willing to accept the responsibility of the spiritual and secular education of an orphaned child but that Tallulah and I needed to visit for an interview. And yes, the Mother Superior said in response to my question, they could take her immediately should she be approved. Tallulah and I were set to leave on the train the next day.

It was the third day Tallulah was with us that I had convinced Mrs. Shaughnessy to come to Carson City with Tallulah and me to buy her some clothing—mainly night gowns as I didn't want Tallulah wearing flimsy, silk gowns, especially at any boarding school she might attend. I prepared Tallulah for the trip by telling her that I had told Mrs. Shaughnessy that she was an orphan and that I was completing her parents' wishes and not to say anything different should she ask.

"But wouldn't that be a lie?" She had looked at me with those eyes that seemed to see through me, to look into my rotten, lustful core—and not care. No matter what, Tallulah smiled whenever she saw me and was always polite. But once she touched my arm and I pulled away from her as if her hand burned and I saw that look of pain in her eyes again.

"Not a complete lie. You see, Tallulah," I tried to explain, "people wouldn't understand the circumstances of your being here so it just makes things easier. Can you understand that?" I found it odd that being raised in a whore house she would have scruples about lying. Whores lied to patrons all the time about the size of their cocks and the pleasure they received.

"Yes, I suppose; it's shameful, isn't it? Miss Nancy always told me that it was wrong to lie, but I can understand it. I can see how I am embarrassing to you. I won't say anything." I knew that I should say that I wasn't ashamed of her, embarrassed by her but that wasn't true and something told me that she would know and then not trust me; I wanted her to trust me, to know that I was always truthful with her. Maybe one day I would tell her that I loved her. If I did, I wanted her to believe it. And with that, I left her alone.

Every day I left her alone in her room. I instructed her to stay there and brought her books to read and she reminded me a bit of Danae locked in the brass tower to protect her virtue—not for her own sake but for her father's selfish reasons and I locked Tallulah away for my selfish reasons—to remove temptation. Every time I looked at her, I considered kissing her honeyed mouth as she was like the nymphs in mythology, the nubile girls who tempted a man onward to his destruction. And hidden away in her room was where Tallulah was that afternoon when Joe and Aggie and their twins came by the house after church.

"She's a nice girl, Aggie" Hoss said. "I think you oughta give her a chance."

"C'mon, Aggie," Joe said, moving near his wife. "She's just what? 14?"

"Yes," Pa said. "Let me call her down so you can meet her." And Pa rose to go upstairs while we heard Hop Sing come in through the kitchen.

"Mistah Cartwright!" Hop Sing stood in the dining area holding his cleaver like a weapon. "Can no catch chickens! Boys, they chase all the chickens and Hop Sing can't get. No fried chicken tonight! Cold roast beef from last night." Hop Sing made a huffing sound of finality and headed back to the kitchen muttering in Chinese.

"Dang," Hoss said dropping his head in his hands. "No fried chicken. Ain't Sunday without fried chicken." And he looked as forlorn and lost as Tallulah had the night I brought her home.

I wanted Hoss to come with me and Tallulah to Baltimore but he was needed on the Ponderosa—or so Pa said. Hoss had raised his eyebrows, smiling, and said, "You ain't afraid of no little girl, are you, Adam?" I wanted to poke him one; I wasn't afraid of Tallulah, I was afraid of myself.

Since I needed someone to drive us to the train depot outside of Carson City, Joe had volunteered that Sunday before he, Aggie and the twins left for home. Aggie had fumed when Joe said, "I'll be glad to drive the two of you to the depot, Adam. I'll be by tomorrow morning about 9:00." Then he winked at Tallulah who smiled and blushed. That's my brother, Joe—the ladies love him no matter what their age.

So that morning Joe stood in the main room grinning while I adjusted my shirt collar; I swear that dress clothes become more uncomfortable as each year passes; when I finally become a damn codger, I'll wear nothing but flannel shirts and loose overalls.. So we were waiting for Tallulah to come down-Pa and Hoss had to leave early to arrange the contract for more railroad ties for the Pacific Railroad. It was on Ponderosa pine that the train we caught would run-that and Chinese labor.

Finally Tallulah came down carrying her two small portmanteaus and Joe stared open-mouthed; she was dressed in a more sophisticated, fitted traveling suit and even I took notice of her small rounded breasts and how the skirt hugged her hips which had begun to swell and sway seductively when she walked; she made me ache. Damn. I wished that she was older and was ripe to bed and taste and feel beneath my hands. I would have loved to fondle between the cleft of her legs and have her respond as a woman would but I had to remind myself, she's still young. And I fleetingly wondered who her first man would be.

Joe had reacted the same way yesterday when he saw Tallulah for the first time. It was easy to see that Aggie was furious with Joe but I have to laud her for being polite and even generous to Tallulah, asking her questions and listening to the answers. But Joe told me that morning that Aggie said he had mortified her in front of his family by practically drooling over a fourteen-year old girl. Joe said that he had insisted that he was merely surprised; he had expected Tallulah to be in pigtails and dungarees and smile like a kid but instead, she carried herself like a woman, as if she invited a man's attention. He had just been surprised, he insisted. But Aggie had still made him sleep on their settee and wouldn't speak to him all morning. Aggie also didn't want Joe to drive us to the train depot but finally acquiesced when Joe explained there was no one else. Why, she had heard it herself Sunday, hadn't she?

"Adam could ask Hop Sing to drive them," Joe said Aggie had insisted, "or you could take the boys with you. They'd love to see the trains."

And that was why Ike and Jake were wrestling in the back of the buckboard and the horses were shifting in the traces; if the brake hadn't been on, they might have taken off from all the ruckus the boys were making-the sounds of their grunting as they struggled to gain supremacy over one another. Their childish cursing could be heard along with the thuds of their fists pounding on one another until finally, a long howl came from one of them. Ike lifted his head and looked guiltily at Joe so the victim was obviously Jake.

"Pa!" Jake wailed, sitting up. "Ike hit me!"

"He hit me too, Pa. We was just wrestling but butt-face here.."

Before Ike could continue, Joe reached into the buckboard and pulled them both up by the back cross straps of their overalls. "Now you listen, you two! I've just about had it. You were at each other on the way over here and I'm tired of it! Any more fighting and I'll knock your heads together!"

"Hey, Joe," I said stepping closer to him. "I thought Aggie didn't want the boys around Tallulah. Why'd she make you bring them?"

Joe released the twins and sighed. "I guess she thinks it'll make me too miserable to notice how pretty Tallulah is? Doesn't she bother you any, Adam?"

"No," I lied. "But about the boys…Hop Sing is here." I grinned and Joe understood.

He grabbed his sons who had begun to wrestle again, by their arms. Ike was determined to get in a good punch and still swung his fists at his brother. "Okay," Joe said, giving them a shake and then he dragged them out of the buckboard and stood them on the dirt. "Hop Sing has some cookies and milk in the kitchen. You stay here and I'll pick you up on my way back and if I hear that you didn't mind him, I'll toss you both in the Truckee River. Now GIT!" Joe stomped a foot and the boys ran off and Joe climbed up into the driver's place, grinning.

I helped Tallulah up on the seat and sat beside her and we took off for the train depot and she sat sedately between us and because of that, there was no real conversation, just about the weather and the price of beef and how hot it would be this coming summer. When we reached the train depot, Joe unloaded her baggage and Hop Sing's basket and carried them to the train and even helped bring in on board. And even though I had told Hop Sing that I would be able to purchase food on the trip, he had packed cold chicken and slices of buttered bread along with the cookies and a jar of lemonade. I couldn't say no since he had killed a chicken after Joe and his family had left, plucked it, cleaned it and was up late frying it so that "Little Missy have good food on trip. Think of Hop Sing." He had grinned from ear to eat as he handed me the basket that morning. Despite knowing her background, Hop Sing adored Tallulah; I suppose he felt an affinity with another "outsider" of a type. And Tallulah was disarmingly endearing.


	10. Chapter 10

"May I sit by the window?" Tallulah asked me, her eyes shining. I could tell she was excited about the trip but she was anxious as well.

"Have you ever been on a train before?" Joe asked as we settled in our seats. I usually ask for a private car, especially for such a long trip, but I didn't want to be alone with Tallulah so I took two seats in regular coach

All it took was Joe's question for Tallulah to start chattering. "When I came here from Chicago a few years ago, I rode a train and they're so exciting! They move so fast and there are so many people and I've never been to Baltimore. I'm a little afraid of staying there but it will be nice to know other girls. At least I hope so. I've never had any friends—I mean someone like me, another girl my age. The women at…"

I stopped her. For once Tallulah was behaving as a child, prattling away but I didn't want her to let slip anything about the whores at The Crown that she knew; someone nearby might be listening and although I usually don't give a goddamn what others think, I did care what they might think about Tallulah. I don't know why I did, but I did.

The conductor called for all aboard and Joe tipped his hat at Tallulah and wished us a safe trip and left. And Tallulah smiled at him; I wondered if she wasn't a bit in love with him and I felt a pang of jealousy—that's what a fool over her I was. I settled in the seat, Hop Sing's basket at our feet, while Tallulah peered out to see Joe on the platform. She lowered the top half of the window and eagerly waved goodbye to Joe while we pulled away, the smoke and steam billowing. And then we were off to Baltimore and I considered how my life had changed just because of one 14 year old girl. Funny how we never know what's ahead or how one chance incident can change a person's life forever.

I glanced over at Tallulah, at her gentle profile and I knew that I loved her—I just wasn't sure what type of love it was.

The trip seemed interminable but Tallulah endeared herself to me even more. As we traveled on, she chatted about silly things, things that young girls find interesting, such as dresses and hats and what did I think about a certain woman's hat? Did I like it? Maybe it would be prettier with pink roses instead of white ones and what did I think? She would constantly ask me what I thought about everything, the fabric of the train seats, the size of the train windows, the smell, the sounds, a young man sitting a few seats down, and I never quite knew how to answer her since I had never given thought to such things so I was short with her; I'm too old to put up with such shit. But Tallulah seemed not to notice my bad temper or she forgave me—one or the other—and nibbled on the almond cookies Hop Sing had made for the journey. She kept offering some to me but I always declined until finally I told her not to keep asking me—I had told her no and if I changed my mind, I'd tell her. And then she looked hurt and I felt a cad but I knew no other way to deal with her. So I told her to get out the book I had given her, _Ivanhoe_, and told her to read.

Tallulah looked at me. "You want me to be quiet, don't you?" She looked so injured; I didn't know how to deal with a young girl's tender feelings either.

"Yes—if you don't mind. I'm tired and I really don't enjoy traveling." I took off my hat and rested it in my lap, laid back my head and shut my eyes; Tallulah tried my patience. She was a lovely thing, a delectable thing, but she was truly still a child in many ways.

"All right," Tallulah said quietly. And Tallulah remained silent almost the whole way to Kansas City, reading her book or gazing at the passing scenery; we spoke when it was necessary and I tried to avoid looking at her. Tallulah was so vulnerable and I knew she was becoming more restless and anxious the further we traveled from Virginia City. Two nights into our trip, I glanced over while Tallulah slept, her mouth slightly open, her face calm and smooth and soft and framed by her soft, blonde hair, and I considered what type of woman she would be in a few years; she was already a beauty—what more could she become? And for once, I did something on impulse-I leaned over and kissed her pale cheek and she sighed in her sleep. My heart thumped to think that I had kissed her and I could still feel the softness of her skin under my lips and the scent of her hair and I was smitten by a beautiful child. I had to be on guard. I frightened myself by the strong emotion that wracked me; it was like my heart was held tightly in a fist. Please God, help me resist temptation—and I was one who never prayed.


	11. Chapter 11

We changed trains in Kansas City and Tallulah looked around with huge eyes. The railway depot in Carson City was nothing compared to this. This terminal was crowded with trains on the many tracks and people milling about. Braking wheels screeched and the sound of released steam echoed among the voices and shouts. A porter followed us with our bags as we pushed our way through the crowd to make our train and Tallulah reached out a small hand and clasped mine. I almost rejected her hand but didn't, just squeezed it slightly and she smiled up at me and it seemed that she was comforted. Something happened then and she seemed more confident as we strolled through the depot. We were almost to our train when I stopped and bought a paper funnel of sugared pecans from a vendor.

"Here, Tallulah." I handed the cone to her.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at me. "What are they?"

"Taste them." I waited, watching.

She took one and chewed on it and smiled. "These are good! Would you like one?" She held the cone out to me.

"No, thank you," I said. "They're for you." And Tallulah won my heart completely when she turned to the porter and held out the cone. "Would you like some, sir?" What a good heart she had, my angelic Tallulah.

The porter was an old Negro man and he looked at me as if stunned by the offer. Then he looked at her and with a gentle smile said, "No, Miss, but I thank you mightily." And before he left us and I handed him a tip for his help, he said to me, "That's a mighty fine daughter you got there, mister. She just as good as she is beautiful. You one lucky man."

I felt myself swell with pride and thanked him and I glanced at Tallulah who had taken her seat by the window, eating her candied pecans and looking at the activity on the railway platform. Suddenly I didn't want her gone but wanted to keep her with me and as we traveled on to Baltimore, I had more patience with her; I asked her about _Ivanhoe_ and she was more than happy to tell me about the knights and ladies and I told her about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and she sat, entranced and listened. And so we enjoyed each other's company; she was my beauty, my lady and I would be her knight and fight for her until the end. I'm such a goddamn, fuckin' romantic.

"Now, Tallulah," I said as I adjusted her hat since there was no mirror for her to do it, "don't tell them anything about The Crown or such." I pushed a wavy lock of hair to behind her shoulder and then stood back and looked at her. She waited and then in a small voice asked if she looked all right.

"You look lovely," I told her and she smiled. We were waiting to be called into the Mother Superior's office as St. Agnes' was a Catholic School.

"Why shouldn't I mention The Crown or Nancy?" Those pure, guileless eyes of hers went straight to my heart every time.

"Tallulah, stop asking me why or why not about everything. Please, just be quiet and answer just what you're asked and no more. Promise me." I was getting short on patience. We had been delayed at least two hours a day ago by a tree fallen on the tracks, and I was afraid that we would miss our appointment. I had just had time to deliver our luggage to the hotel and then catch a hack and make it to the school. We stood now in the outer office and I was sweating but Tallulah stood as pale and calm as the moon; she had no idea how important this meeting was.

"I promise, Mr. Cartwright." I had been tempted to earlier tell Tallulah to call me Adam but it seemed a bit too familiar and I worried what the nuns would think.

We were ushered in by the nun who had greeted us in the outer office, introduced to the Mother Superior and offered seats. I offered her the papers of guardianship and she glanced over them, smiled at me and handed them back. The Mother Superior was very precise in her movements but she had a kind face and she welcomed Tallulah and me graciously but I found I was edgy; I wanted her to like Tallulah and I could never predict what Tallulah might say.

"Well, Tallulah, so you would like to come to school here?" The Mother Superior sat and smiled kindly.

"Yes, ma'am," Tallulah said quietly and then looked at me.

The Mother Superior turned to me. "And why have you chosen our school, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Well…your school was recommended by the librarian in Virginia City; she spoke highly of it and I wanted…well, I didn't feel that I could raise a female myself nor did my father—I mean he didn't feel that he could raise a girl having raised only boys so I was at odds as to what was best for Tallulah. I think that Tallulah should have a woman's guiding hand to raise her properly. You see I haven't had any experience raising children and then to have so recently…" I felt like a goddam fool so I just stopped talking. Tallulah kept her eyes cast down on her clasped hands in her lap.

"You have yet to mention the child's spiritual life." Mother Superior looked at me, waiting.

"Well, yes. That's important too."

"Important? It is foremost." I felt duly chastised.

"My child," she said to Tallulah, "do you know who that is?" She motioned toward a picture on the wall.

"Yes, Ma'am. That is Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior."

I released my breath. Tallulah had come through on that question and I had to silently thank Miss Nancy for the good job she had done with Tallulah.

"And do you know who our beneficent St. Agnes is?"

"No, Ma'am."

Mother Superior pointed to another painting, this of a young woman who held her hands together in prayer and who looked upward at a heavenly light, a halo framing her head.

"Saint Agnes was a martyr who died a virgin at thirteen. Agnes and her family were Christians and she was reported as such to the Romans who then dragged her naked through the streets to a brothel. But every man who attempted to rape young Agnes was struck blind. They attempted then to burn Agnes at the stake but the wood would not take light. In the Roman's frustration at God's protection over her, they stabbed Agnes in the throat and her sacred blood poured forth like a fountain. It was soaked up by her followers' handkerchiefs as holy relics. Therefore, Saint Agnes is the patron saint of chastity, virgins and girls. That is why we venerate her, named our school after her and make our purpose the education and protection of young women."

I was appalled that Tallulah was told such a story so soon but when I glanced at her, Tallulah sat transfixed; it would appeal to a young girl's imagination.

"Would you like to stay with us child until you are eighteen and equipped to deal with the sins and troubles of the world?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am." Tallulah's face lit up and it was eerily like the face of St. Agnes in the portrait—full of innocence and trust.

But I wasn't so sure anymore. And yet, I saw no other option.

The Mother Superior turned to me. "Mr. Cartwright, I think that Tallulah has been sent to us by St. Agnes and if you would give her into our scared trust, we have room for her. She may stay with us as of now."

"You mean, leave her here now?" I wasn't prepared for that. I was planning that night on taking Tallulah to dinner at a nice restaurant and treating her to a play before taking her back to the hotel where she could spend the night in her own room with a soft, feather bed and smooth, cool sheets.

"Yes. Sister Raphael will take her to the dormitory and give her the uniform and her gown for sleeping."

"Oh, but she has clothing, new clothing. They're at the hotel but I can fetch them…"

"There's no need, Mr. Cartwright. We provide all for our boarders and those who come for day classes also wear the uniform. None of our girls have needs go unfulfilled."

I wanted to add that it was because the tuition was so steep that they could afford to fulfill at the needs; I was providing for Tallulah, not them, not Saint Agnes, not God.

Mother Superior stood up and I did as well. "Are you staying in Baltimore for long, Mr. Cartwright?"

"No. Well, I hadn't really made any plans. It all depended on whether or not Tallulah was staying here or not. I took a suite of rooms at the Continental Hotel."

She smiled at me genteelly. "I will leave you alone to say your goodbyes. Then, as I said, Sister Raphael shall show Tallulah to her room. The Sister will be waiting just outside the door. The rooms are none too elegant but they serve all the girls' needs. Then we will discuss tuition and I will give you a paper of what we require from our girls. We have certain rules and regulations and you know that we expect Tallulah to attend services."

"Yes. I understand." Mother Superior left us and I cleared my throat; I had no idea what to say to Tallulah.

She stood up. "Will you come visit me, Mr. Cartwright?"

"No. Baltimore is too far for visiting." I sighed at her crestfallen expression. Damn it all. I had no reason to feel guilty or as if I was abandoning her—but I did. "Now you do as they ask and I'm sure that you'll be happy here. You'll make friends and learn many things. All right?"

Tallulah began to cry, large tears falling from her eyes. Damn that girl! I couldn't bear to see her cry. Oh, I ached to hold her and kiss her and comfort her

"Please, since you can't visit, may I go back with you?" she asked looking up at me, the tears dropping.

"No, Tallulah. You'll see. Things will be wonderful. You'll like it here."

She wiped away tears but more kept coursing down her cheeks and dropping from her chin. "May I write you, sir?"

"Yes…but I don't know that I'll be able to find the time to write back. I'm a busy man and…" We stood in awkward silence; she knew I was lying. And then she surprised me; Tallulah threw her arms around my waist and hugged me, burying her face in my chest. I didn't want to touch her but she was so sad and so needy that I gingerly patted her head and then took her by her upper arms and pulled her away. "Goodbye, Tallulah," I said and went to the door, opened it and beckoned for the nun who I assumed was Sister Raphael, to come in.

"Well, no more tears, my child," the nun said, leaning down slightly. "Come with me and I will show you around. Then I will find out your size and fit you with a uniform and introduce you to the other boarders."

And as Tallulah walked out, she turned once and looked at me and I just watched her go, unmoving, cold-hearted bastard that I am.


	12. Chapter 12

I had two hours before my train left Baltimore when one of the bellhops came to my door with a note; he said it arrived by messenger. It was a request for me to meet with the Mother Superior at ten that morning; there had been an incident concerning Tallulah and it was doubtful that she could remain at the St. Agnes School for Girls.

I sat down on the bed. I had been looking at Tallulah's things now that she couldn't have them with her. There was the volume of _Ivanhoe_, a bit over half read, the blue ribbon marking her place. Inside Tallulah's portmanteau which I had opened—I don't really know why—was her hairbrush and hand mirror, some handkerchiefs, hair ribbons and pins, and dusting powder along with a few chemises all snapped in one side. On the other side were her three dresses for day and the two night gowns Mrs. Shaughnessy had helped us buy in Carson City. The night gowns were high-necked and of stiff flannel, not softened yet by washing. Underneath all were pairs of white stockings and lace petticoats. I just looked at them and realized that I missed Tallulah's chattiness and her smile and her innocent beauty. I was lonely for her. But I closed everything up. Maybe there was a young woman at church who could use the clothing—I would donate them. But her personal items, those I would keep for her and one day I would see she received them back.

The small clock in the sitting room of the suite struck once for the half hour and with a sense of misgiving, I caught a hack to the school and was ushered into the same office I had been in before, the Mother Superior's; she was sitting at her desk, waiting for me.

The Mother Superior sternly indicated for me to sit and I did, feeling like a naughty schoolboy; I knew that I was going to be chastised. I greeted her but she did not respond to my question about her well-being but then I wasn't really interested.

"Mr. Cartwright, I believe that you have kept important issues to yourself concerning Tallulah. Due to that, I feel that Tallulah may not fit in here."

"I'm not sure what you mean." I wasn't going to confess to anything until I knew exactly what the problem was. Then I heard the door open, turned and Tallulah, accompanied by a nun, was led in. I stood and looked at her; Tallulah had been crying. I seemed as if all I had brought her was tears. She sat down in the chair next to mine and we both waited. Tallulah folded her hands in her lap and looked down. She looked younger wearing a black dress with a white pinafore like a schoolgirl. Her fair hair was modestly pulled back into a long golden braid.

After a few moments of seeming contemplation, Mother Superior spoke. "It seems that Tallulah has quite a bit of knowledge about the sinful life. It am informed that she took it upon herself to explain to the other boarders what a brothel is and what is done there" Mother Superior looked at me. "I hope this is not your doing, Mr. Cartwright. I hope this child has not suffered molestation at your hands."

Tallulah spoke without being acknowledged and the Mother Superior made an effort to tell her to be quiet but Tallulah refused. "No—don't think bad things about him. Mr. Cartwright has only been good to me. I only told the other girls about brothels because they didn't know what one was. We were talking about Saint Agnes and they didn't know why she was dragged naked though the streets to a brothel and why men would want to rape her. I just told them about men and their…needs… that's all. I used to live in a brothel so I know what goes on and Mr. Cartwright took me away from there." Tallulah collapsed in sobs again, bent over in the chair, her face in her hands.

"May I speak with you alone, Mother Superior?" I wanted to put my arm around Tallulah, to thank her for defending me but this was not the place. I had no idea how the Mother Superior might interpret any physical affection between me and Tallulah, especially considering what Tallulah had just revealed.

"Yes. I think that would be a good idea. Sister Anne, please take the child out. Perhaps a warm mug of milk will calm her."

The nun nodded and spoke quietly to Tallulah who rose to leave with her but Tallulah turned her eyes on me, pleading with the eyes of a child. I wasn't sure if she was pleading with me to convince Mother Superior to allow her to stay or pleading with me to take her away. I just didn't know and I realized at that moment that I was all she had.

"Mother Superior, Tallulah needs us—both you and me—more than even she knows, more than you know and probably more than I can ever understand. I'm a sinful man, lustful and avaricious but as far as Tallulah goes, she is as pure as a babe. For all she's been through in her young life, she's amazingly innocent." And I explained to the Mother Superior about Tallulah's past, all the details, even down to her being trained to serve Murfee. I confessed that Tallulah's situation had stirred my conscience but that I couldn't have a young girl stay with me in a house full of men. I may be a father to her in some people's eyes but not in Tallulah's; she seemed to only be able to see relationships in the frame-work of what she had known and observed. But, I added, I hoped that the Mother Superior could see the goodness within Tallulah, the light within her that could so easily be snuffed out—and I realized as my voice broke, that it was true. I had seen the small child within the maturing body with her need to be loved and her desire to be cherished. And I wanted to take her back with me and show her how cherished, how precious she was. But that wouldn't haven't been to her benefit as it would only serve to fulfill my selfish desires to have her love me. It was then, talking to the Mother Superior, that I realized that was what I wanted—Tallulah's love.

When I had finished talking, I could see that the Mother Superior was touched by Tallulah's history and she dropped her head in silent prayer. That made me uncomfortable but when she looked back up, she seemed to have made a decision.

"Mr. Cartwright, I think it is best that Tallulah remain with us. The child needs guidance and she needs to be taught the love of Our Father in Heaven. I will see that she is guided to refrain from interests in the carnal and to see her horizons beyond the mortal flesh." Then she stood and I knew I was being dismissed.

"May I speak with her before I go?" I wanted to see Tallulah.

"I think it is best that you don't; it may just upset her again. Besides, what would you say that hasn't already been said?"

"Nothing I suppose but I think she believes that I'm deserting her. I haven't been particularly warm."

She smiled benignly and placed a hand lightly on my arm. "I assure you that Tallulah will not think she is being abandoned. Realize that God has placed Tallulah in our keep so trust that all will be well, Mr. Cartwright. May God grant you a safe trip home."

And with that, I left; there was nothing else to be done. I walked down the paved walk and opened the iron gate to the street. I stood and regarded the old building. That was the last time I saw The Saint Agnes School for Girls and the last time I was in Baltimore. And it was the last I saw of Tallulah until four years later.

Tallulah was faithful; she wrote me. I had been home a week when I received a letter from her that was ingenuous:

_Dear Mr. Cartwright,_

_It is with affection that I inquire how you and your family are. I am well. _

_I have made a friend named Sarah Johnson. She is my age and is a boarder as well. The girls who attend as day students are friends with one another and not with the boarders but we don't mind. I would think this is what it is like to have a sister, to have family._

_Sarah's mother is dead and she said that her father cannot take care of her so he sent her to the school. She said it is because she her father has a mistress and doesn't want her around. I told her that I wasn't wanted either but not for that reason._

_I have found that I greatly dislike mathematics. I think it is because Sister Beatrice, the instructor is not friendly and the class is solving problems in division. I didn't know what division was. I missed nine of the ten calculations she gave us yesterday. I had to put out my hand and she hit me across the palm with a ruler once for every problem missed. I tried not to cry but I couldn't help myself. Some of the day girls giggled but later Sarah whispered that she hated Sister Beatrice. Molly, one of the older boarders is helping me with my mathematics in the evenings. _

_I do like my music instructor. Sister Gabrielle is young and beautiful. She sings like an angel and I want so much to be like her. I am trying to learn to play an instrument called a zither. It's like a guitar that lies flat on your lap and Sister Gabrielle said that many women are taking it up to entertain visitors to their homes. I know that you have a guitar so you could probably play it. I am not very good but Sister Gabrielle says that we each have our own gifts. I do not know what my gift is._

_Thank you for paying for me to attend the school. I am most grateful. I would also like it if you would write me back but it is all right if you don't. I will understand if you are too busy._

_Your ward,_

_Tallulah_

_P.S. If you write me, I would be most appreciative for any news of Miss Nancy and of yourself._

My hand shook as I read her simple words; how could she trust me like that? She unknowingly revealed her pain which I'm sure I felt more deeply than she and I wanted her to stop, to hide from me what she thought and felt and not to tell me about being punished—it enraged me to think of her small hand being slapped across the palm with a ruler so sharply that she cried. Oh, Tallulah, if I could, I would protect you and you would never shed tears again.

I knew that corporal punishment was common. I, as a schoolboy, had on occasion been paddled for misbehavior and once humiliated by being paddled and also having to stand in the front of the class for the rest of the afternoon with a sign around my neck saying that I was hell-bound; I had called another student a fool. Mr. Abernathy had icily told me that not only would I have to stand as an example of what happens to a miscreant but that according to the "Good Book," I would surely go to hell.

"Whoever shall say, 'Thou fool,' shall be in danger of hell fire," he intoned while looking down his nose at me.

I was not to be intimidated by the "absolute" Mr. Abernathy. "Then is it better if the next time he bothers me, I call him an idiot?" And that was why I was paddled long and hard before the class as I bent over grasping the edge of the teacher's desk, my face growing hot with embarrassment and blinking back tears while the boys snickered and the few girls in class looked down at their desk tops. But when my Pa asked me how school had been that day, I said "Fine," and no more. My disgrace was my own and I would keep it to myself.

I didn't write Tallulah back but that didn't deter Tallulah. She wrote me on a regular basis, at least once a month and I wondered if she wasn't encouraged to do so by the sisters since I was more or less her benefactor. But as the first one was, Tallulah's letters were filled with news about her progress and about the other "boarders" who basically became her family. I was pleased when she wrote that she improved in mathematics and when she would inform me of any punishment she incurred, once for having her light on too late in order to read, I felt outrage. How dare they harm her, hurt her even it was to smack her open palm or scourge her calves for being out in the yard without permission although she admitted to me that she knew she was wrong? I ached to hold her and comfort her and I would have to remind myself that Tallulah was nothing to me except a financial burden that I had been a fool to take on.

One day, about a month before Christmas of that year, a letter came from The Saint Agnes School for Girls. I dreaded opening it fearing that Tallulah had done something egregious and they were dismissing her but it was to inform me that the school would be closed for two weeks, a week before and a week after Christmas Day in order to allow any boarding students to spend the holiday with family. I immediately wired the school and asked if Tallulah could stay with them over the time as I was not her family and incapable of hosting her. Besides I added, the length of the journey would not allow for any time for visitation; Tallulah would no sooner arrive than she would need to be packed off again. I received a return wire informing me that Tallulah would be welcome to spend the time with them and that she would be invited to attend religious services. But the Mother Superior also added that Tallulah would be the only student in residence during that time.

In order to assuage my guilt, I bought Tallulah a gift of three linen handkerchiefs and mailed them off with an enclosed note wishing her a Merry Christmas.

I tried to explain the traveling quandary to my father and Hoss when they asked me about the holidays and Tallulah.

"It doesn't make sense for Tallulah to do all that traveling. She's better staying where she is."

"I understand, Adam," my pa said as we ate breakfast. "You're right of course. All the time would be spent in traveling and a 14 year old girl traveling all this way alone, well, it would be unsafe."

"Ain't she almost 15?" Hoss asked as he stabbed more hotcakes.

"Yes," I said. I had forgotten that her birthday was so soon after Christmas. "I suppose I should send her a birthday gift as well but I don't know what the hell to get her."

"Maybe if you just wrote her." My pa had said he didn't understand why I never wrote Tallulah, even once.

"I sent her a note with my gift." I stabbed at my slice of ham; my appetite was off.

"That ain't the same, Adam," Hoss said. "That poor little thing up there all alone. Nothin' says that you can't travel to Baltimore and see her for Christmas."

"Look, both of you, I've done my good deed and it should suffice for my whole lifetime. I have responsibilities here and I also have no desire to travel all the way to Baltimore to see some girl I don't even know. She's better off with the nuns."

"Tell me somethin', Adam. How come—iffen she means nothin' to you-you never share Tallulah's letters with us or nothin' like that? You keep them like they's some secret love letters."

"Oh, please. If you want to read the goddamn letters, just say so. I didn't feel that I should foist her childish thoughts on you. She just writes twaddle—nothing important or even interesting but let me know and I'll let you read them and you can even write her back. You and she can be friends since you're just about the same age mentally."

"Ain't me she keeps writing." Hoss continued to eat, not the least offended, and Pa kept glancing back and forth between us. "Wonder what Tallulah looks like," Hoss continued, "iffen she's gotten any prettier." He shook his head. "I'll bet she's even more of a beauty."

Pa cleared his throat. "Is the responsibility you referred to Ponderosa-related, Adam, or is it Millicent Howard and the Christmas Ball?" My pa raised his coffee cup nonchalantly but I knew he was interested in my relationship with Millicent Howard; it had been a topic of conversation ever since I started courting her a few months ago. Actually, as soon as I had returned from taking Tallulah—or as Hoss had put it on my return, abandoning Tallulah—in Baltimore.

"I suppose a bit of both." I replied.

"Good," he said, smiling across the table at me. "I like Millicent and she has at least kept you from visiting The Crown."

"Not completely," I said and Hoss grinned as he kept his head down. "I'm not wholly domesticated yet—or gelded."


	13. Chapter 13

It seems that my conversation with my father about Millicent Howard was prescient.

Millicent was a lovely, young widow with a boy she nicknamed Sonny. He was shy—spent too much time on his mother's lap and at five years, Sonny was still taken to the breast each night. Millicent claimed it helped him sleep and being fatherless, Sonny needed all the assurances of her love that she could give. Nevertheless, it made me uncomfortable to see the boy climb up onto her lamp, for her to unbutton her bodice and have him latch on to one of the large, brown nipples and suck while she stroked his hair and cooed how much she loved him. But it was the only time I saw any part of Millicent that was usually covered by clothing and it made me hard to watch the scene.

So that night after the Christmas Ball and the sitter had left for home, Sonny wakened and called for his mother. Millicent had rushed to his room to settle him down for the night and upon her return, I had suggested that perhaps Sonny was too old for the breast; would she be going to his school every day at lunchtime and whip out her breasts to feed him? Millicent was offended at the rude comment. No, she said. How could I even ask such a thing? Besides, Sonny only sucked at night before sleeping. Well, I had asked, what about if you ever marry? What might your husband think about it, sharing your body that way? I knew I was being vulgar, insulting, but I didn't care. If I was going to marry Millicent, I had to know her attitude toward such things. I wouldn't allow the boy to continue suck if I became his father.

"I would hope my husband would be understanding." Millicent was annoyed with me, I could tell but as I had sat in the parlor, waiting for her to return to me, my anger rose in my throat.

She sat on the settee, her face reflecting her uneasiness over the topic.

"It seems to me," I said quietly, "that you need Sonny sucking your teat more than he does."

Millicent blanched. "Oh…Adam. How dare you suggest such a thing?" She stood, huffy and insulted. "I think you should leave. Now."

I went and picked up my hat and gun belt off the table by the front door where I had left them. "Look, Millicent, tell me now if you want me to come by again. I won't have a door slammed in my face so let's just state where we stand."

She approached me, her blue eyes snapping. "How dare you make such a nasty comment about me and my son? I am his mother and my purpose is to make my son feel secure and loved. There is nothing unhealthy about that. And I think that you—well, the pot shouldn't call the kettle black." She smugly looked at me, her mouth tight.

I was suddenly defensive. "What do you mean by that?" Millicent seemed to deflate a bit; she wasn't quite sure of herself as I stepped closer and lowered my voice, "What do you mean, Millicent?"

She backed away a few steps. "You think I don't know about the girl you're keeping to be your whore when she's older. Actually, people are wondering why you didn't take her already even though she is young—what 12? 13? People say that you have…unusual tastes. I hear that she's beautiful and that you spent thousands of dollars for her—ten thousand I believe—maybe even more. You paid so much they say because she's been trained in ways to please men."

I approached her and Millicent stepped back again. I think she feared that I would strike her and although I wanted to, I didn't. I wouldn't slap a woman but if any woman deserved it, she did. I knew that she said what she had because she was hurt by what I had said about her and Sonny and wanted to get back at me. Millicent obviously didn't believe the gossip or she wouldn't have taken up with me and allowed me to visit her but this was an example of how spiteful she could be.

Millicent looked up at me with fear. "I'll thank you to shut your goddamn mouth, Millicent. You can gossip about me all you want and you can believe whatever you want about me but don't talk about Tallulah. She is my legal ward and she is at a boarding school and not one where she'll learn how to sexually please a man but where she'll learn from the nuns how to live a life of sacrifice and charity. And I suppose that I won't be coming back here."

I put on my hat and walked out of Millicent's house. I buckled on my gun belt and mounted my horse that was eager to leave. Then Millicent stood at her open door.

"I don't want you to come back!" she shouted. The streets of Virginia City weren't completely empty as it wasn't yet ten in the evening and those within earshot stopped to observe the emotional scene—at least on her part. I just tipped my hat and then Millicent resoundingly slammed her front door.

"C'mon, boy, let's go." I kicked my horse and we took off toward The Crown. I needed to get laid—badly- and have a teat stuck in my mouth.

_Dear Mr. Cartwright,_

_I hope that your holidays were happy. Please give my regards to your family as I remember them fondly. _

_Thank you for the gift of the handkerchiefs; they are lovely and Sister Isabelle said that a lady should always have a handkerchief that she is not embarrassed to use in public. I liked your note expressing wishes for a happy holiday. _

_I was also pleased to receive your wire wishing me a happy birthday. I was surprised that you remembered my birthday and that I am now 15. Birthdays aren't celebrated here as we are born anew when we accept the love of Christ. One of the day students, Madeline Bowen, had a birthday the day after mine and she said that she received a ball dress since she is now sixteen. She brought a small box that she hid in her pinafore pocket to show us the necklace she received as well. It has a large pearl and small rubies. Boarders aren't allowed to have jewelry and things like that. Madeline let some girls try on her necklace but she wouldn't let me. She said I might break it but I think that she just didn't want me to wear it. Sarah wasn't able to try it on either and she said it's because we're prettier than Madeline and she is envious. I hope not since envy is a deadly sin and I wouldn't want Madeline to go to hell even if she is mean to me._

_I have found my "gift" as Sister Gabrielle said. I am very good at sketching and water colors. We have a small flower garden although there are only holly bushes blooming now and I am allowed to go out and set up an easel and paint. I have enclosed a sketch of me that Sister Marguerite drew while I posed in our drawing classes; the students' sketches weren't as good. I hope that you enjoy it. Sister Gabrielle said that I should send it to my family as a Christmas present. I know it is a late present and I apologize for that._

_I still struggle with my mathematics but I do not miss as many problems as I did before and therefore, I am punished less. I have not told you about my Latin class because I am worse at that then Mathematics and I am afraid that you will regret your largesse when you find out what a bad student I am. I have many times had to sit on a stool balancing my Latin text on my head as Sister Constance said that maybe the lessons would sink into my brain that way. The first time I had to sit in front of the class on the stool, I couldn't help but cry but I don't anymore. I just think about other things, what I want to do when I grow up and am on my own. I want to help people who are suffering and sad. Sister Gabrielle says that all people must understand that everyone suffers as it is our lot in life and that we should have empathy for others; only by suffering ourselves can we understand the pain of others._

_I would very much like it if you would write me but I understand that you are a busy person helping to run the many ventures of the Ponderosa. _

_I wish you good health and happiness._

_Gratefully yours,_

_Tallulah_

I put the letter down on my bureau. It was the third time I had read it and each time it upset me. I wasn't sure why. Maybe if I had kept Tallulah here and sent her to Virginia City's school she would be better off. But then I would have to constantly worry that she would be snatched off the streets by one of Hai's men or perhaps one of Murfee's. Maybe Murfee would want Tallulah back, force her legs apart and take her. I couldn't bear that—I would be forced to kill either bastard should they harm her. But each time I thought of Tallulah blossoming before my eyes, her breasts becoming full and her hips rounding, her beautiful face and those eyes, well, she might not be safe with me either. She had been taught how to please a man she said and I would want her to please me. I didn't know if I could be trusted.

I glanced at the sketch she had sent me of herself. And she had also enclosed a sketch of a cat sleeping, her childish signature at the bottom. Tallulah was a good artist; I was glad that she had found her "gift" and the sketch of Tallulah, although subtle, captured the delicacy of her beauty, her innocence. And I found myself wanting her—a fifteen year old girl and me, 24 years older than her. What a damn, lustful bastard I was. And so I didn't write her back but I tucked the letter in my pocket and rode into town that afternoon and headed for The Crown.


	14. Chapter 14

When my knock was answered, I asked to see Nancy. I waited just inside the foyer, admiring the erotic etchings on the wall; nubile young girls being mounted from behind by satyrs with huge phalluses and other drawings of women pleasuring each other with their tongurs. It wasn't an unpleasant wait and soon Nancy was there.

"Mr. Cartwright, is Tallulah all right?" She looked truly upset.

"Yes, yes. It's nothing like that. I just thought that you might want to read her latest letter; I find that I am…bothered by it and perhaps you can guide me. I find that I don't quite understand young girls…and if she's happy at school or not."

She led me to her room and one of the whores we passed remarked that to Nancy, "I can see why you'd go back to taking customers. Hope he doesn't particularly want a tight fit though he might be big enough to touch both sides once he's in." Then she smiled at me. She was a big redhead and said, "If you're not happy with Nancy, just ask for Lola. That's me-and a red head through and through." And with that, she opened her wrap and showed her reddish pubic hair. I winked and she laughed and Nancy pulled me into a room.

"I swear, that Lola is getting more brazen all the time. Just because she's Murfee's favorite when it comes to sucking his cock…oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Cartwright. Please excuse me but I have been having a bad time with Lola and Murfee won't let me slap her as she needs. Now you said you had a letter from Tallulah?"

"Yes." I reached into my pocket and pulled it out.

"Please sit down." Nancy motioned toward a chair, a flowered upholstered chair and I did. She offered me a cognac and I accepted and glanced around the room while she read the letter. It was a surprisingly cheerful room, chintz curtains and a yellow coverlet on the bed. The window was open letting the sun stream in and the breeze fluttered the curtains. I hoped that Tallulah's room had looked like this while she was at The Crown.

Nancy finished the letter and wiped her eyes. "I'm glad that Tallulah is being educated. I did the best I could but I'm an ignorant woman."

"You taught her the basics and for that, I thank you. You also taught her to be polite and gracious—that had to come from you."

"Not from me alone, but thank you. When Tallulah was a mere babe, all the women in the house loved her. They dandled her on their knees and taught her games and her colors and such. But as you probably know, Mr. Cartwright, whores come and go practically every day. A girl starts at about fifteen, sixteen and then, by the age of twenty-five if not sooner, she's replaced by a younger whore. As Tallulah grew and her beauty became obvious, she was treated cruelly by some of the girls; they saw her as competition. And then when Murfee took an interest in her and didn't make her work on her back at thirteen or fourteen, well, the other young ones resented her. They called her names and accused her of not having a slit between her legs—just other ugly things to insult her. Tallulah never understood why they should hate her; the child has a good heart. I think she's best at school and she seems happy. Thank you for seeing to it. And she has a friend and it looks as if she has an ally among the nuns. Tallulah is a lovely girl."

"Yes, Nancy, I'm sure she does and I'm glad to know you believe she's happy; that's what I needed to know—that I made a good decision in sending her away. Well, I need to go now that you've finished reading it. I have other business." I put out my hand for the letter and she held it a moment longer and then gave it back.

"Will you send her my regards?" Nancy asked.

"I don't write her back. I think it's best that I don't."

Nancy stared at me. "Why? Tallulah asks that you write her."

"It will be easier this way. When her schooling is through, I want nothing to do with her. Trust me, it's better this way."

Nancy stood in thought for a moment. "If I write her, will you send it to her? I would ask for her address but something tells me you wouldn't reveal it."

I grinned. "No, I wouldn't." I put on my hat. "But if you would like to send her a letter or such, just see I receive it and I will address it and post it. I'm sure that Tallulah would be happy to hear from you."

Nancy looked at me with narrowed eyes. "I don't quite understand you, Mr. Cartwright. I know from the girls that you're a lusty one and I also know that you like games of chance—usually win a great deal of money, much to Murfee's displeasure-so it surprises me that you're playing it safe with Tallulah."

"I don't understand." I waited. I had a feeling she wasn't going to flatter me, as if she knew my secret lust for Tallulah.

"You could easily have Tallulah fall in love with you; she's an impressionable young girl who never had a father. An older man, a handsome man like you, could easily have her desperate for your affection—if she isn't already. You could with little effort, have a young woman to lay with every night, a young girl with a soft mouth to please you. And yet, you sent her away. I'm glad that she wasn't pressed into the life of a whore or mistress but I don't understand. I never thought of you as noble but I suppose I was wrong; I thought I could read people better."

"You weren't wrong." I normally wouldn't talk to a woman the way I did to Nancy but then she wasn't an ordinary woman; I was sure that over the years, she had seen and heard just about sexual act and every sexual perversion so I spoke openly. "I would like to bury my face between Tallulah's legs and then stick it in every opening she has but what I want and what I do are two different things. I can't give in to every urge I have—I suppose that might be called being civilized but I think it's just being afraid that once the barrier is down, what's left to keep a man from turning into a monster? I have to live with who I am and I might as well have a modicum of self-respect. Besides, I have to look at myself in the mirror every morning and not slit my own throat with the razor." Nancy said nothing else and I left The Crown.

The next day, a letter to Tallulah from Nancy arrived in an unaddressed envelope delivered by one of the boys who swamped at The Crown. I was tempted to read Nancy's letter before sending it on but I didn't. I addressed it and had Hoss post it when he went to town. And as soon as he was gone, I regretted not reading it.


	15. Chapter 15

Life went on as usual; the Ponderosa flourished, Pa was healthy and Hoss became healthier; his appetites enlarged for both women and food. I told him that he should start letting the whores climb on top of him or he might flatten them. I still gambled and frequented The Crown, finding the most obliging and inventive whores there—and the most compliant; all my wants and desires of the female sex were fulfilled by them except for the social aspects of life. I had more or less given up on courting so much as marrying any woman of my acquaintance, and yet there was still the occasional light hand on my arm after church service and a pretty widow or a not so pretty spinster would ask me to dinner or if I was going to the spring dance or the fall harvest dance. And what about the church picnic or the 4th of July doings? Sometimes I would ask the woman to the dance, other times, not, but I no longer encouraged any woman to entertain hopes that I could be led down the aisle so I wouldn't see anyone regularly as my pa had told all three of us early on, "People start to think of the 'girl' as your property."

Funny, but Tallulah was, in a manner, my property. I made the decisions over her and I could, should I choose to do so, take her out of school and marry her, bed her and get children off her. But then the thought that I might have offspring in the cut of Jake and Ike would probably make me wilt. But still, there was Tallulah's rosy mouth and her full lips.

Joe and Aggie also flourished and so did Ike and Jake, still fighting among each other for dominance but joining arms against the world which unfortunately included their parents. They were cohorts in all sorts of misconduct and would tell lies for each other until their tongues fell out. Pa was worried as they were to start school that fall and although he loved his grandsons, he wasn't blind to their faults, but I reassured him in my own way by reminding him that Joe had been the bane of every school teacher with whom he came in contact; Pa wasn't much comforted. But the twins gave me a wide berth ever since I threatened to toss them in the pig pen and let the boar at them; he was a huge, nasty beast, at least five feet high at the crest of his rounded back, with tusks and beady eyes that seemed to emote evil. And he stank like the sulfurous flames of hell.

One afternoon when we were to watch the boys, I heard some whinnying and board thumping from the barn. There was a mare close to foaling and I considered that she might be doing so now, so I hurried to the barn. Inside it, Jake and Ike were pelting the brood mare with small rocks they had collected and she was trying to avoid the stinging pellets and kicking at the sides and back wall of her stall, her ears laid back. I grabbed both boys by the back of their shirts and hauled them, yelling and dragging their feet, to the pig pen some distance behind the house; it was perfect timing. The boar was mounting one of the sows and he was grunting and thrusting, spittle dripping from his jaws while his obscene testicles sagged and swung. The sow was squealing, almost collapsing under his immense weight. The other sows were running around the pen as they knew they would be next; one or more of them was in estrus and the boar was humping anything that moved. The scene looked like one of magnificent violence.

"The next time you two decide to torment one of the animals on this ranch, I'll toss both of you into the pen and the boar will think you're a sow. See what happens to the sows?" They both nodded and from that moment on, no better behaved children stepped on the grounds of the Ponderosa. Pa remarked one Sunday after Joe, Aggie and the boys had left, how well-behaved the boys had become. "They're a true joy to have around. I guess they've grown up." But Hoss smiled at me and I grinned at him; he knew the secret to their transformation.

And there was always Tallulah in the back of my mind. For her birthday each year, I sent a wire with best wishes and each Christmas I sent Tallulah a small gift. It was handkerchiefs the first two Christmases until Hoss asked me how many noses did I think Tallulah had, and after that, for one Christmas I sent her a book of Donne's religious poetry hoping that neither she nor the nuns would interpret the mystical eroticism behind many of the verses, and the next Christmas I sent her a book about the great cathedrals of Europe. I had it sent it to her from New York and mailed her a note saying to expect it. In her following letter to me, she thanked me profusely for the book and said that she was in awe of the actual photographs of the grand edifices. Perhaps, she had added, one day, many years hence, she would be fortunate enough to see such places herself.

I had noticed a change in Tallulah's letters. No longer were they full of childish prattle and entreaties for me to write and perhaps visit. That she spent all the seasons of the year in the company of the nuns appeared to be of no concern to her anymore either. And her letters showed a maturation; it was almost like seeing her grow up as revealed by her thoughts. She discussed religious philosophy and St. Augustine, having earned the right through her outstanding scholarship, to read such a work. One whole letter was dedicated to Augustine's concept of original sin. I had the impression that she wasn't allowed to voice such possibly heretical remarks in her classes.

"Since original sin brings about concupiscence," she wrote, "and all humans inherit the sin of Adam, are we not already doomed to a life of sin? Grace is irresistible, Augustine says, but what if it never comes? Since God told Adam and Eve to go forth and procreate, why is the carnal seen as sinful? I see no other way to obey God's edict." I recognized that as Tallulah's sense of humor; she was surprisingly droll. "And another contradiction—since Adam and Eve felt desire for one another before the fall—granted it was supposed to be innocent, why did desire become sinful after? Just because they suddenly realized they were naked? But I dare not bring these queries up to the nuns; they will forbid me from reading books that might cause me to question basic beliefs."

Yes, Tallulah had proved herself an outstanding scholar and I swelled with pride as if I had had anything to do with it besides provide the opportunity. Every so often, Tallulah would enclose a sketch of a flower or of one of the nuns who allowed her to sketch her. Tallulah also sent sketches of the building and being trained as an architect, I appreciated those.

There were sometimes quick sketches of Baltimore's inhabitants as once she turned sixteen, she was allowed to go on day trips with groups of girls with the nuns serving as chaperones. Apparently they went to do charitable work in the tenements giving the families fresh vegetables from the school's gardens. Tallulah wrote that they also handed out children's and infant clothing the students had sewed or knitted as well as the blankets they had quilted. Tallulah's drawing talent was obvious as the people she sketched were individuals and one could sense the lack of hope in the people's eyes and upon occasion, the touch of mischief in a young boy's glance. But she never sent another sketch of herself.

In the envelopes to me was always a letter for Nancy, sealed shut with bit of wax. Obviously Tallulah didn't trust me not to read them and I was tempted to pop the wax and read it anyway. I wondered what she was telling Nancy that she wasn't telling me but I never did open them, just dutifully gave them to Nancy when I visited the Crown.

One night, after about three years of exchanged missives, I had the courage to ask Nancy about Tallulah's letters, what she wrote and such.

"She writes you as well, doesn't she?" Nancy asked.

"Yes, but I worry that things may not be as she presents them to me; after all, I am paying her tuition and she may not want to complain to me."

"All right. If you really think you would like to know, let me fetch her last letter," and a few minutes later, she came back with a piece of the smooth vellum that was so connected now with Tallulah in my mind. "Here." She handed it to me.

"You're allowing me to read it?" That surprised me but then it must be a relatively tame letter.

"Yes. I suppose you deserve to know. It's the most recent one." Then she left me and I dismissed the whore who had been sharing a bottle of fine Kentucky whiskey with me, telling her to come back in about fifteen minutes.

I unfolded the letter, my heart thumping. And there was Tallulah's handwriting and I read the thoughts that she revealed to another—not to me. It was almost like seeing her naked.

_My dearest Nancy,_

_I hope all is well with you and the other women at The Crown. I often think of you and the others—even Mr. Murfee-with much fondness. I was sorry to hear that Mr. Bailey came down with consumption and coughed himself to death—it sounds as if he suffered greatly. I hope he was able to receive the Extreme Unction so that his sins were forgiven and he may live eternally with Jesus. _

_Since we in my class are so close to graduation, some of the girls have decided to take the veil. I have considered it but I am still too attached to the world and the people in it; I would be a hypocrite and God knows what is truly in our hearts and mine is black with sin; I am smitten with carnal thoughts. Oh, Nancy, I so want to be loved by a man!_

_I write Mr. Cartwright every month and each time, I hope he will reply but I am continually disappointed. I have even wept over his obvious disdain for me. I know that I inquire about him every time I write you, but please let me know if he and his family are well. You will let me know if any misfortune befalls him, won't you? _

_I do pray for Mr. Cartwright's soul and his physical well-being every evening and every morning as I owe him so much and although I am certain he sees me as a child, I have always kept his image in my mind as the handsome knight that I am sure he is; after all, he did rescue me. The other girls see Jesus as the perfect man and although it is blasphemy, I see Mr. Cartwright as the perfect man. I'm sure that in the light of reality, his flaws probably glare but then, I am the most flawed and sinful of all. While I should have my thoughts focused on all that is glorious in the heavens, I only think of him. I am truly a silly girl still._

_This has been a hard winter and our rooms are cold; coal is expensive and it is only during the day that the building is warm as the day students' parents pay extra for coal to be provided while their children are in attendance. We boarders wear our overcoats, scarves and gloves to sleep. We make a joke of it and my friend Sarah joked that if the nuns had their way that is how they would want us to dress on our wedding nights, bundled up and protective of our chastity._

_Since I early on told Sarah about you and in whose company I grew up, she and I often whisper about the physical side of love. We long to be taken by a wonderful man but Sarah is worried that she would marry an ugly man or a poor one. I told her what you had once told me—if you love a person, they are beautiful to you and money becomes less important._

_I must close, Nancy, as it will soon be lights out and I want to write Mr. Cartwright so that I may post these letters tomorrow. I won a prize in mathematics, something that he may be pleased to hear since I have always been such a hopeless student as far as numbers are concerned but I am afraid my letter to him will be short due to time. Each time I write him, I have to resist pouring out my heart to him. _

_Much love to you, Nancy, and may blessings be yours._

_Tallulah_

I found myself shaken. In her letters to me, Tallulah had never even hinted at the things she revealed in her letter to Nancy, but why would she? And why had Nancy given me that letter to read? It was, by the date, the most recent but she was aware that Tallulah had spoken of me and expressed affection—perhaps even a shade of lust in the words. I folded the letter and then the whore who I had asked to leave came over and sat on the arm of my chair.

"Everything all right?" she asked. "You look like you got bad news in that letter."

"No, nothing like that." I ran a hand up her leg. "Go get Nancy—tell her she can have her letter back and then let's go upstairs and commit a few sins."

She smiled at me, bent down and kissed me and then left to find Nancy who came by and took the letter from me. I rose and the whore hung on my arm, staring up adoringly; money buys that affection.

"Are you glad that you read it?" Nancy asked me pointedly.

"I don't know. But it doesn't matter." And then I took the whore upstairs while Nancy watched but it wasn't the whore I truly fucked that night and I'm ashamed to admit who I imagined was moaning underneath me. I don't think even Tallulah's munificent St. Agnes would forgive me for my sin of lust for Tallulah's firm tits and tight ass.


	16. Chapter 16

Many things had changed in Virginia City and Chinatown over the four years that Tallulah was away at school and I would try to see things through her eyes. You know how it is when you see things every day, it's like watching children grow. You don't realize it until their clothes don't fit one morning. I remember how much Hoss and Joe had changed when I came back home after being away for almost four years at school, Joe getting gangly and Hoss, almost as tall as me and him only 14.

The population in both towns had risen—mainly men, most of them single or men who had left their families to either work in the silver and gold mines, the mills or for the railroad as surveyors or crew bosses. And there were less women for the men so the inventive took advantage of that—what my college business class taught: Find a need and fill it—and charge what the market will bear.

My family had also increased our cattle holdings and started breeding meaty, fatty stock by introducing some Hereford bulls and heifers. Since the railroad had extended and put in more lines, we could ship our cattle to Abilene, Kansas City and St. Louis and not drive the fat off them anymore. Oh, there were still a few times we had to drive a small herd but not very often. And because of that, there was less work for drovers and some of them had turned against the law in order to survive. So it happened that no more were saloons and whore houses the destination at the end of the trail for scores of cowboys. Things had changed and continued to so and many small towns died out and some grew larger.

The lesser brothels in Virginia City had gone out of business so many of the whores went straight to the mines, the pimps creating cribs in the bowels of the earth where the women serviced the men after their shifts. It was good for business that it was darker down there since the women who worked in the cribs were the older and less attractive of the women—the most desperate.

But The Crown and the other two "fancy" bordellos prospered. It seems that Murfee's place was a favorite of the wealthy railway men; they spent money like water and any night I showed, I was certain to see a few enjoying champagne and dandling a whore or two on their knees and the whore stroking them inside their trousers. There was constant traffic on the stairwells as the men went up with a whore and then came down alone, usually to gamble more at the many tables.

As for myself and The Crown, I still won a great deal of money at poker. Most off of the railway men who had to do civilized business with me during the day for the benefit of the Pacific Rail Road, begrudgingly lost to me with as good a spirit was they could while I cashed in my chips and then enjoyed a few women in the upper floors.

But Chinatown was a different story.

One morning, two years after Tallulah went off to school, I was in Virginia City and heading to the hotel restaurant for breakfast when I came across Roy Coffee as he rode into town with two grain sacks tied together and slung over his saddle horn. They obviously weren't holding grain and had a dark reddish-brown stain on the bottom; he looked more upset than I had seen him in years.

Hang Lu, his Chinese deputy, was riding alongside him with three of the stained grain sacks tied across his saddle. His horse as well as Roy's seemed upset by the baggage, tossing their heads and nickering. I called out to them and Roy pulled up his horse and so did Luke. I nodded to Luke and greeted him and he replied in kind. Luke was a quiet man but Roy had told me he trusted the boy—a little spooky at times but Luke had proved himself by intervening between some of the Chinese and whites who found themselves at odds. "I'd don't know how I got along without him," Roy had told me. "I swear, Adam—I never thought things would come to this—every day there's something. I'm getting too damn old for this shit and I think this is my last term as sheriff. I'm hopin' Clem will run with Luke as his deputy. I just want a little peace and quiet in my life." And I understood.

I noticed that the shape of the objects in the sacks was odd. "What the hell's going on, Roy? That looks like blood." I peered at the sacks more closely and determined that it was blood that stained the bottom.

"The world's gone crazy, Adam, that's what I think. You know what we got in theses sacks?" Without waiting for me to reply, he answered his own question. "Heads. I got Hai Tung's head and one of his men and Luke over there's got three heads. My guess is they were Hai's henchmen."

"So I guess Hai Tung is no longer the leader of the Tong." This was the first I had heard of it and wondered if Hop Sing knew; he probably did as he knew things before any of us did—we could never figure out how he knew but he did. Hoss suggested that Hop Sing could read minds and I swear on my balls that he seemed to know exactly what the hell a man was thinking.

Luke spoke up this time. "An informant told me there was going to be trouble and I guess this is it. He came by again this morning and told me that there were heads being kicked around in the streets of Chinatown as if they were kick balls for children to play with. These are the heads."

"Where are the bodies?" I asked, curious. Luke shrugged.

Roy said, "Damned if I know, Adam. And I tell you, walking into Chinatown was damn scary. I ain't been that afraid since I was little and feared the dark. Luke and me rode into Chinatown and then we had to dismount and lead our horses." I knew as well as a few others that the Chinese didn't take to any "round eyes" riding through their narrow streets on horseback; it was too much like the lords in China whose soldiers whipped and rode over anyone who was in the way of the mounts. "And as we walked, Luke asked in Chinese about the heads and eventually, these were kicked in front of us…first one, then the others until we had 'em all. I just want to dump these at Doc's and then wash my hands. I'm so tired of finding dead Chinese everywhere"

I nodded and then they started off but I called after Roy and he stopped and turned back to look at me.

"Who's in charge now?"

Luke answered. "A man by the name of Hong Fu. The name Fu means wealthy. Whether he gave himself the name or the household gods did, who knows, but he is wealthy. He now owns all the whore business and from what I can find out, all the opium distribution. At least for now."

I was relieved that Hai Tung was dead—for Tallulah's sake. And I wondered what Hop Sing thought about all this. And If I hadn't been so self-centered, I would have earlier asked Hop Sing how things were with his relatives and friends in Chinatown and I may have known about the trouble before Luke and Roy. Hop Sing had been nervous the past few days, even burning a rhubarb pie and bringing his 12 year old nephew, Ping Xin, to help him in the kitchen for a few days. But they had talked in hushed tones and Pa had commented on how guarded Hop Sing had been the past week or so.

And then there were the dead women who kept turning up. Every so often, a naked, dead Chinese whore could be found dumped somewhere; we had found two on the Ponderosa, decayed and half eaten by wolves or buzzards, the flesh that was left covered with flies and maggots but the long, loose black hair made it obvious they were women's corpses. Dr. Martin had said, after a fresh corpse was taken to him, that it appeared that the woman had died of a cocaine overdose; her blue lips still had flecks of white foam. But some had been obviously strangled and every so often, one had her throat slit, her neck bones showing chips made by a large, sharp knife. But most of the bodies were dumped in the open sewer beside Chinatown, their rotting corpses adding to the stench.


	17. Chapter 17

I was in town one late spring day and stopped by the General Store to pick up the mail. Along with a catalog of firearms and a letter from a cattle buyer in Kansas, the following letter arrived and I immediately recognized Tallulah's elegant hand. Once I was outside, I tore open one end of the envelope and removed the smooth vellum hidden inside and unfolded it:

_Dear Mr. Cartwright, _

_I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health. I am well._

_I take up my pen again to inform you that I will be leaving Saint Agnes' in a few weeks with my certificate of education and I have you to thank; you have been most generous to me and I have attempted, over the years to repay you in whatever small ways I could although letters and amateurish sketches are poor coin. Nevertheless, I hope that on occasion you took delight in them and I also hope that over the past four years I have given you no reason to regret your largesse._

_I will be looking for a position at a school since I believe I would like to be a teacher and share my knowledge that I have so laboriously accrued over the past four years. I am most interested in teaching the poor and needy—that is what the nuns have preached: For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required. _

_I feel called to serve my fellow man and I think that teaching is the way. Over the last year I have been working in the scullery washing pots and pans and have accumulated enough money for my labor to pay my way back to Nevada. The day I am to leave, I will receive the payment for my work. I expect to reach my destination, Carson City, within two weeks of departure, arriving on May 23. Perhaps I will be allowed to visit you at the Ponderosa sometime and express my thanks in person. I hope so. I would also like to see your family again as they were so kind to me. Nevertheless, you have no further obligation to me but I have an eternal obligation to you, one that I can never repay in kind._

_With great respect and affection, your ward,_

_Tallulah Mason_

I read the letter again and then folded it and tucked it inside the front of my shirt, feeling the cool paper next to my skin. It had taken almost two weeks to arrive and Tallulah would be arriving in Carson City in two days. I was afraid of seeing her; not only had she aged four years but I had as well. At 42, my hair was turning gray and although I was still in decent physical condition, working as well as any man on the Ponderosa, my back ached every evening and after a night of gambling, drinking and whoring, I had bags under my eyes and a sour mouth with a disposition to match. What would Tallulah think of me? I was sure she would be appalled to see the "old" man who had been paying her tuition and who had basically ignored her and seemingly shunned her attempts at affection.

I strolled over to the Silver Dollar and had a beer to think, to organize my thoughts. As Hoss said, beer is the tonic that helps a man think—or forget everything completely; it just depended on how much of the tonic a man drank. And I had a heavy mind.

There were many things to consider. If Tallulah spent any time in Virginia City, I was certain that she would visit Nancy as Nancy had been writing her fairly consistently—once every few months, and had raised her; there was affection between them. Perhaps Nancy was who Tallulah really wanted to see in Virginia City and the Ponderosa was only a cursory diversion to say "Thank you" as manners would require. I now regretted that I had never read any of the letters Tallulah had written to Nancy—that's what "Honor," no matter how specious, got you—nothing. You'd think I'd know that by now, wouldn't you? Besides, when you've lost, who gives a fuck about honor?

What if in the letters, Nancy had asked Tallulah to return to The Crown, to join her in corralling the whores or to work as one herself? I knew that if Tallulah did join the staff, Murfee would soon have her on her knees in front of him and sliding his slimy cock down her throat or worse, up her. I couldn't bear thinking about it—but I could entertain myself with the thought of her on her knees before me and fishing me out of my trousers with her tongue. I guess it's all perspective.

And the thought of Tallulah's sweet, rosy mouth sheathing me made me catch my breath and I slugged down the rest of my beer, then holding up a finger to ask for another one. Patricia, one of the older women who worked there brought it over to my table.

Patricia was about my age but looked worse for a woman of forty than any forty year old man did—including me. This land and this climate aged women quickly; it dried them out until they were wrinkled and practically desiccated—they looked like walking Egyptian mummies, the wrinkles and creases ingrained in what were once plump, girlish cheeks.

"How've you been, Adam?" Patricia asked. "We don't see much of you in here anymore." She noticed the letter on the table and I could see her trying to read it. I reached for it, folded it and tucked it inside my shirt front again. "Sorry," she said. "I just like to read letters—everyone else's life is so much more interesting than mine. Can I ask who Tallulah is?"

"She's my ward—well, she was my ward. She's of age now and leaving school. She said that she's heading back to Nevada—not sure of her final destination…maybe another letter will come before then." I couldn't seem to stop talking. I rarely give out so much information but I found that I wanted to talk about Tallulah—I wanted to say her name, to hear her name as it was spoken by another; her name was like music to me—so pleasant, so beautiful, so melodious and dear. I guess I have a sentimental streak or maybe it's not sentiment at all—who knows? I hated to think I actually loved the girl but I suppose anything is possible.

"That's really nice," Patricia said. "Tallulah you said? She coming here?"

"Might be—I don't really know." I was determined not to say more as I was afraid that I'd begin to babble like a goddamn idiot, effusing over a young girl whose memory made me fuckin' sweat.

"I got a daughter," Patricia volunteered. "Married a cowhand about two years ago and he took her off to Montana territory. I've gotten two letters in all that time. I've worked all her life taking care of her since her pa died and that's all I get—two letters in two years." Patricia gazed out at nothing and then she seemed to realize again that I was there. "You're lucky Tallulah writes you at all. Most children, from what I've experienced are ungrateful; they never understand what we do for them. None of them." Patricia gave me a wan smile and moved on to another table and asked them if they would buy her a drink.


	18. Chapter 18

At dinner that night, I told Pa and Hoss what Tallulah had written, at least the gist of it, and Pa didn't say anything about her returning to Virginia City. Hoss grinned and said that he wondered how pretty Tallulah was now and if she still made a man think of what he'd like to do to her or have her do to him—and then he apologized as our father had cleared his voice in a disapproving manner.

"I'm sorry, Pa. I know that it ain't proper dinner conversation but it's just us and Tallulah's 18 now; she ain't no child." Hoss said. He took a sip of water. "She made me hard four years ago and she'll probably set me off in my pants when I see her now. Damn, I'll bet she's 'bout the prettiest thing ever."

My father gave a sigh of resignation; he knew what Hoss meant and I wondered if he wasn't wondering about it himself. Tallulah had always made him a little uneasy since he had no specific category for her; she hadn't been a child he could fuss over and chuck under the chin and she wasn't a full woman—and she was so delectable that she made a man's mouth water, no matter what his age.

My father put down his fork and folded his hands, looking down the table at me. "Are you going to encourage her to stay, Adam? The reason I ask is because it might be…risky to put her back into the locale she knew."

"I'm not going to encourage her or dissuade her to do anything—she's old enough to make her decisions for herself." I feigned nonchalance. I had thought of nothing else but Tallulah and trying to convince her to stay—but that was because I wanted her near. I tried to convince myself that it was just to confirm that sending her to school in Baltimore had been the best choice but I knew the real reason—it was because I longed to see her, ached to look into her dark eyes and see the sweet expression on her face but most of all, to see what type of woman she had grown to be. I knew from her letters that Tallulah was intelligent and clever and knew just what to say to me so although I knew certain things about her, I didn't really know her mind—except for what she had written Nancy. And every so often in my room, I would glance at the sketch of her that she had sent so many years ago and I would try to visualize her as a woman and now I might very well have the chance to see.

"You goin' to pick 'er up from Carson City?" Hoss asked, cutting his ham steak. He had poured maple syrup over it, "To cut the saltiness," he had said years ago. I remember I had asked what was the excuse for the syrup on the buttered biscuits? They weren't salty. Hoss had said that he didn't need an excuse for using syrup just like a man doesn't need an excuse to fuck a woman—if she's available, take her. If the syrup's available use it. It all just came down to that.

"I hadn't planned on it." I had no appetite but continued to eat; I didn't want to show how Tallulah upset my equilibrium.

"Why not?"

"Why should I? It's not as if she and I are close and besides, from her letter, she said her destination is Carson City."

"Okay," Hoss said. "I'll go pick 'er up. Maybe I'll take Joe along. What you think, Pa? Think Aggie'll let 'im go?" Hoss grinned and Pa just looked at him.

"All right," I said reluctantly, "I'll go pick her up—if you'll come as well. Anything to keep peace between Aggie and Joe. God knows how Joe would fall all over himself if Tallulah is as beautiful as we suspect."

"I swear, Adam,I think you're still scared of a bitty girl." Hoss gave me that sly glance of his as if he knew what I was really thinking and he probably did.

"Shut the fuck up," I said throwing down my napkin and I left the table for the front porch. The evening was falling and this time of year, the days were mellow but the nights were still chilly but it felt good. After a while I was about to go in when my father stepped out. I knew it was him even without looking due to the uneven stride.

When I was twelve, my father and I were checking beaver trap lines. Old Will, our foreman, was checking the rabbit traps. We made good money selling beaver pelts and Pa had already made a few trips to New Orleans to sell them; it supplemented the income from selling cattle. We hadn't quite built up the herd and beaver pelts for hats were in high demand in Europe. I had developed a talent for skinning. I developed the precision of knowing where to slit the animal's skin so the fur could be pulled off in almost one piece. Hoss never could get used to skinning an animal. He would do it if he had to when we were out overnight on the property with Pa. He'd help skin a rabbit or help Hop Sing at home by plucking a chicken and gutting it, but there was something about skinning wild animals that he didn't like. "Ain't like we're gonna have fox stew or beaver steak," he told me. "Just seems like a waste to toss 'em to the pigs." And as big as Hoss is, he's the most-tender-hearted of us all.

Well, Pa was going down a slope to the river to check the trap lines and his foot turned under him and his ankle snapped; the doctor said that wearing the boot, which had to be cut off, prevented it from being a worse break than it was. My father was devastated by the injury; he could only hobble around with a cane for almost six months, relying on Old Will and the few hands we had to handle the cattle. And then silver was found on the property and although Pa was exultant about the potential wealth, it still had to be dug from the ground and we didn't have the funds yet—or the know-how.

"Shame about that boot," he had said to me one evening after the accident, his foot propped up and bandaged. Hop Sing waited on him now and seemed to enjoy that the "lion" as Hop Sing sometimes called my father when he roared through the house, had been changed to a kitten—helpless.

Pa acted as if those boots were old friends and I half expected him to cry whenever he saw the one lone boot standing alone by the door without its mate. He eventually bought another pair and I had to sit and use saddle soap on them every night for two weeks to soften them so he could comfortably wear them. But now, after all those years, at the end of a long day, Pa's ankle ached and often swelled and it caused him to limp. He also had to remove his boots and wear slippers. So by the 'shush' of the slippers on the wood of the porch, I knew it was him behind me.

"Well?" I asked without turning. I knew he was wanting to talk about Tallulah and I didn't.

"Tallulah is a woman now. It'll be interesting to see how she's turned out. Aren't you the least bit curious? You've invested enough money in her."

"I suppose that I am curious…" I didn't want to say more—to expose my raging desire to see Tallulah but he knew; Pa always knew.

"Should be interesting?" he repeated. I hadn't looked back at him yet but I knew that my father was standing with his hands in his pockets, waiting. That stance—I had seen it so many times and usually it filled me with dread because it meant I had done something wrong and was being called to answer. I guess I was being called to answer about Tallulah. Life will fuck you over every time.

I hadn't seen Tallulah in four years and yet in her letters, I'd seen her grow from a schoolgirl to a woman. It was obvious she'd become an intelligent, thoughtful woman and I think I had fallen in love with her a bit—if not more than just a bit. But there's a catch to all this—she's young woman, only 18 and I'm a 42 year old man with a bad back. Hell, sometimes I even have trouble fucking a whore—she has to ride me. So what kind of match would I be for someone as young as Tallulah?

My father smiled when I told him that, maybe because he was the same way; hard work for all those years had broken him down physically as well—he once said that his knees ached so bad that sometimes he had trouble squatting to take a shit. My father didn't approve of my visiting The Crown or any other place to get laid and he would rather I marry, but he had stopped making his disapproval of my habits obvious. I think he had given up hope that I would ever find a wife but then so had I. And now Tallulah was returning and there were other concerns.

"I know," I told him, "that Tallulah will want to see Nancy and then there's Murfee. Hai Tung's been decapitated so he's no longer a worry but still…"

My father stepped closer and put his hand on my shoulder. "Now you have a taste of my life—always worried about those you love" I started to interrupt him, to protest that I didn't love Tallulah but he stopped me. "It's getting chilly. I think I'll go in. C'mon and have a cigar and brandy with me. And Hop Sing's sliced the peach pie. C'mon."

So I went in and had a slice of peach pie to Hoss' three. And after a cigar and brandy I went to bed but didn't sleep. My thoughts were filled with Tallulah. I was afraid, not of what I would think of Tallulah, of what she had become—I already knew that—but what would she think of me? It has always been the unknown that's filled me with the most dread and there were so many unknowns.


	19. Chapter 19

Hoss had checked the train schedule in the _Territorial Enterprise_ so he and I left with more enough time to get to Carson City's depot. We sat and relaxed on the buggy seat while waiting for the train.

"Think you'll recognize her?" Hoss asked. He had even bathed the night before instead of just taking a whore's bath and I found it amusing. He had even splashed on a bit of cologne and I told him he smelled like a French whore.

"I don't know," I answered. I had wondered the same thing myself or if Tallulah would recognize me. My thoughts had gone back to the letter that Nancy let me read—her true thoughts about me and I feared she would be sorely disappointed when she saw me again and that I would see it in her face. Heroes tend to grow greater in the imagination and them reality deflates them and they become human.

For a big man, Hoss is surprisingly agile. Even before I saw Tallulah, he was out of the buggy and striding toward her and she apparently recognized him and picked up her skirts to walk faster.

I was too amazed to stir. Tallulah was beautiful—stunningly so. She wore a simple black dress with a high white collar and cuffs, white gloves and a small cape about her shoulders. Her white-blonde hair was simply pulled back to form a bun at the nape of her elegant neck and she wore a simple straw boater but she was far more beautiful than the other women debarking the train with their brocades and silks and fancy hats. My Tallulah was a "snowy dove trooping among crows." The quote seemed fitting as she did rise above them.

I watched as Hoss took Tallulah's hands in his and as he bent down, she kissed his cheek and Hoss actually blushed. He picked up her carpet bag and walked with her to the buggy, talking to her about something. I had jumped down from the driver's seat, unsure how to greet her. What should I say and should I kiss her, hug her? I decided to take my cue from her.

Needless to say, our meeting was awkward. Tallulah thanked us for greeting her but she told us she had planned on staying in Carson City and perhaps one day driving to Virginia City to pay us a visit while I stood there dumbstruck. It was Tallulah but she was finally the woman who had been ready to bloom when I last saw her and damn it all if she hadn't bloomed. Hoss was love-struck—or so it seemed. He couldn't keep his eyes off her but then nether could I—and I didn't know how any man could.

"Now you come stay with us, Tallulah. We won't hear no argument about it, will we, Adam?" I could tell that Hoss was made a fool just by her presence. He smiled continuously and although he was talking to me, he watched her—not that I blame him; Tallulah was exquisite.

Tallulah was gentle when she spoke. "Hoss, I'm sure that Mr. Cartwright here may not care to have me stay. After all, my education has cost him a dear amount of money. I can't take more charity from him."

She turned her eyes on me and I merely replied that we would be happy to have her stay a few days. Tallulah hadn't kissed me as she had Hoss. She hadn't hugged me or even put out her hand to me and I was jealous that she and Hoss had greeted each other with smiles and such effusive sentiments. And here she was calling him Hoss instead of Mr. Cartwright.

"Now I think you're old enough to call 'im Adam. Right?" Hoss looked at me expectantly.

I merely smiled and stated that yes, she could call me Adam if she liked; I had no issue with it. And then Hoss helped Tallulah up on the seat and climbed up beside her and took the reins.

"Aint' you comin', Adam?" They both looked at me but there was something in Tallulah's eyes—maybe amusement—I couldn't tell. I nodded and climbed in the back along with the full carpet bag, making myself comfortable leaning against it on the ride home and listening to Tallulah and Hoss chatter about all that had befallen her in the past four years, at least the good things. In her later letters to me, I felt that Tallulah had kept any bad news to herself and that she was doing the same now. And I wasn't certain that I wanted to know about any more pain or heartache she may have suffered—especially if it was at my hands or my doing.

One thing I noticed as I watched Tallulah was that she seemed more confident and once we reached the Ponderosa, Pa was enchanted with her. Hop Sing was charmed as well and marveled at her beauty which made Tallulah respond modestly. I wondered if she had lost all pretense to vanity—but I doubted it. She was too lovely not to be vain.

At dinner, Pa invited Tallulah to stay with us and promised that he would try to help find her a teaching position. She accepted the help with the job but declined the invitation to stay with us; I don't know if I was relived or not; when it came to Tallulah, I was never sure how I felt. Hoss and Pa insisted she stay instead of going to town and taking a hotel room and Tallulah finally accepted the invitation stating that it would save her money; she was watching every penny she said, smiling, having worked so hard to earn it.

"Did you have a job in Baltimore?" Pa asked.

"Tallulah was a scullery maid, right?" I said. That was actually the first complete sentence I had said at dinner.

Tallulah composed herself; she had caught the tinge of sarcasm in my voice.

"Yes, actually I was a scullery maid—I suppose I was like Cinderella in that manner. Fortunately I didn't have to sleep near the cinders to keep warm and I also never had the chance to go to the ball and dance with a prince. But I earned money that way since I have no family to help financially." She looked at me, challenging me, "And I certainly would not impose on you, Mr. Cartwright."

"Adam," I said. "You may call me Adam. And you were never an imposition."

Tallulah didn't respond but continued her conversation with my father. "I thought that perhaps I could find a job in Carson City until a teaching job opened but now that I'm here in Virginia City, perhaps I can find one here—just something to earn my way. I can't accept Cartwright generosity forever-I have for too long already."

My father, ever the gracious host, replied, "Well, I can understand your feelings but please don't think you are a financial burden in any way by staying here." Pa gently smiled and I knew that he was delighted to have her at his table; looking at Tallulah was like viewing a piece of art; she amazed and impressed. "And it's always a pleasure to have a beautiful woman around."

"It sure is," Hoss said. And Hop Sing who was standing by holding a cake plate by its stem, added his opinion about Tallulah's loveliness—that beauty such as hers should be appreciated. I expected them both to drool as I looked at their faces. More than likely, all three of them were only considering what it would be like to fuck such a sweet, lush, ripe woman—I couldn't have been the only one who had maintained a semi-erection through the whole meal and now had to sit through dessert. I would have to watch Tallulah's elegant hands as she lifted the forkful of pastry to her mouth and slide the fork between her lips after each bite. All I could think of was those full, rosy lips sliding up and down my cock. So I said no to dessert and excused myself to go out on the porch; I needed some cool air. Tallulah had upset me again, damn it all! She just has a way of looking at me now—all the guileless innocence long gone and I well understand why Pa and Hoss slavered over her as if she was a bitch in heat. But she was a grown woman and of more than legal age to be bedded and enjoyed.

After a while, I went back in and the three of them were sitting, drinking digestifs and Tallulah was charming them anew. But she looked tired to me, as if her cheerful persona took effort and a great deal of energy and when I came in, she looked up to me and she was the 14 year old girl again, pleading with me for help.

I decided to rescue her again and poured myself a glass of the fruit brandy and stood, sipping. "You look tired, Tallulah. I suppose that all the traveling has taken its toll."

She placed her half-empty glass on the table. "Actually, I am. I was afraid that if I stopped talking, I would fall asleep in the chair." She rose and so did Pa and Hoss. "Please excuse me. I think I'll turn in for the night and thank you-to all of you-for being so kind as to offer me refuge. Goodnight."

The nuns had certainly instructed her on social niceties. She went to the stairs but paused and looked at me.

"Adam, I would like to see Nancy tomorrow. Would you escort me into town?"

Both Pa and Hoss looked at me.

"Of course. We can go after breakfast." She smiled at me and went up the stairs, all of us admiring the swing of her hips.

"You think that's a good idea, Adam?" my father said. "I mean, for you to take her to The Crown?"

"She's a woman, Pa. She'll go with or without me but I'm sure all she'd have to do is turn her big, brown eyes on either of you and you'd carry her to town on your backs all the way." And without waiting for a reply, I too went to bed.


	20. Chapter 20

On the way to Virginia City, Tallulah seemed nervous; she barely spoke and seemed to avoid looking at me by gazing at the scenery as we drove along. But then, about a mile outside of Virginia City, she broke the silence.

"Mr. Cartwright…"

"Adam. Call me Adam."

"I keep forgetting. Adam. I owe you a great deal and I want you to know that I won't forget the obligation. I'll pay you back once I start working—at least what I can. It wasn't until my third year that I found out how much tuition was and I will be grateful my whole life. Due to you, I've become aware of things that I otherwise would have missed."

"You don't owe me anything. If you want to pay me back, just don't squander your knowledge by marrying some dirt farmer and having five children in seven years."

"Well, you're aligned with the nuns then," she said." They told us not to waste our education and that our lives should be spent in service to others. It seems you agree."

I knew she was watching me and I glanced at her. She had a mischievous, flirttious look in her eyes, the first time I had seen it. Tallulah had certainly become more confident in her sexual attraction—or maybe she had just learned how to use it.

"To some degree. A person has to enjoy their own life as well."

"I'm sure that you do, that you enjoy your life," she said. I didn't reply so she continued. "I get the impression that you don't think I should visit Nancy. You haven't said anything—at least to me—Nevertheless, I believe that's what you think."

"No, I don't think you should. It's not Nancy—I would have brought her to the Ponderosa to see you, almost offered it but you're not a child anymore and I'm not your guardian. But I don't think you should go to The Crown."

"Do you think I'll want to stay? That I'll see that as my way to serve others? Wouldn't that be 'squandering' my education by serving men? But I could pay you back so much faster."

Tallulah was laughing at me, teasing me to see what I'd say. I knew but I didn't mind. She had grown to be an interesting woman—at least interesting to me and it wasn't just her beauty or the idea of bedding her. I was afraid that Murfee would find her interesting as well but I knew that he wouldn't want to have a conversation with her about St. Augustine's conversion to God—he would just want to toss up Tallulah's skirts and have at her—but then so did I.

I looked at her and she held my eye, not looking away—waiting for me to speak.

"I don't know if you'll want to stay at The Crown or not—it's not such a stretch-going from one houseful of women to another, both encouraging a life of service. You can do what you like now." And I slapped the reins on the horse's back and the mare picked up the pace. Then in a small voice Tallulah thanked me for keeping her personal items for her. I think it was a way of apology or to get the conversation back on a mundane track.

"It's nothing. I gave away the clothes to the Ladies' Church Guild but your other items I kept and now you have them again."

"I started reading _Ivanhoe _again, starting at the beginning. It brought back the train ride with you and the sugared pecans you bought me."

I smiled at the memory. It's interesting the things we choose to remember but there are more things in my life I've tried to forget.

"I've never tasted anything so wonderful since," she said. "And I remember how you told me about King Arthur and such. Once you left me there at the school, I thought of myself as Guinevere after she joined the order, her heart broken by the loss of the two men she loved. You know, I always thought of you as Lancelot, the man with the flaws, the ill-made knight—so dark and romantic—troubled and struggling with his two natures. Lancelot loved his king and wanted to stay loyal but loved his queen more—lusted after her. I think you would eschew all of society's rules to be with the woman you loved."

We rode in silence for a few moments. I knew she was waiting—I had to admit that she had a good read on me and who I was and I wondered if I had always been so transparent.

"Am I supposed to confirm your opinion?" We had entered the town and were heading for The Crown.

"You don't need to." Tallulah turned back and looked again at the bustling city. "I'm sure the town has changed but I never saw much of it before so I don't really know. So many things have changed though and it's only been four years." She turned to me. "Don't you think so, Adam?"

I didn't reply.

Tallulah was flushed—she was anxious now that we were here. We stood outside the building and Tallulah was dressed as somberly as she had been the day before.

"Are you sure you want to go in?" I asked. There were few people in this part of town this early. The Piper's Opera House was closed and so was the nearby restaurant that specialized in serving late diners—the people who wanted something to eat after a night of listening to an engaging opera or a Shakespearean play and to drink glasses of champagne with the artists who arrived after changing; it always amazed me how the actors, sopranos, tenors and baritones always seemed so mundane off the stage. I had bedded a soprano once. On the stage she had commanded attention and her voice made my hear melt, but once she was on her back, her pendulous breasts like udders and embarrassingly squirming like a young virgin, shrilly declaring her devotion to me while I was practically up to my waist in her, well, she lost her cachet quickly.

Tallulah nodded so I offered my arm which she gratefully took. I used the bell pull door and when the door was opened, I explained to the man charged with keeping out unsavory characters, who Tallulah was there to see. He nodded, looking at her approvingly, and I escorted her inside.

Tallulah held on to me and looked around. Her eyes rested on the pornographic pictures on the wall. I could see that she was intrigued—she had probably never seen them before.

"Tallulah?" We turned to the voice and Nancy was standing there—her arms out and Tallulah ran to her; I felt a twinge of jealousy—I wished Tallulah had run to me.

Nancy had begun to cry when she realized that the beautiful young woman standing before her was the young girl she raised.

"Oh, Tallulah—you're so beautiful. Oh, my child!" Nancy said and Tallulah and Nancy hugged and both shed tears. But Nancy wanted Tallulah to stay awhile and talk with her, to tell her all the things that she hadn't revealed in the letters and I didn't want that.

Tallulah turned to me, she had Nancy arm in arm. "You don't have to wait for me, Adam. If you have something else in town you need to do…"

"No, I'll wait." I didn't want to leave her alone here.

"Would you like a woman?" Nancy asked. "There are a few girls up this early who'd be glad to service you." Tallulah looked at me oddly, as if my using a whore had never occurred to her.

"No—thank you. Just don't be long. I'll wait here." I sat in a wooden chair in the hall and Nancy and Tallulah went into her room and closed the door.

I kept checking my pocket watch and they had been in there for a bit over an hour when the door opened and a smiling Tallulah and Nancy came out. I stood and waited while they said goodbye.

"Now, you'll come back and visit, won't you?" Nancy asked Tallulah.

"Yes, I will and when I settle in, you must come visit me; I'll make dinner. I learned how to cook at school and it's…palatable." They laughed and then Tallulah kissed Nancy on the cheek and I quickly said goodbye to Nnacy, took Tallulah by the arm and steered her toward the door but not soon enough.

"Tallulah?" I recognized Murfee's voice and continued to walk but Tallulah turned and so I stopped. I wanted to drag her out, anything to keep Murfee from seeing her but he had. He rushed to us and held Tallulah by the shoulders but I hadn't yet released her.

"Damn, I should have kept you." He looked her up and down, stepping back to admire her fully. Then he grabbed he bent down to kiss her full on the mouth but I pulled her away and grabbed Murfee's lapels in one hand.

"You keep your goddamn hands off her," I said, releasing him with a shove.

Murfee threw his hands up in the air, grinning. "I understand, Cartwright. She's yours fair and square. You bought her. But I tell you what, I'll buy her back. I'll pay ten thousand for her. You can buy a hundred whores for your bed with that—I just want her." He looked at her practically licking his lips in anticipation tasting her.

I wanted to smash his face and would have except that Tallulah intervened.

"Please, Adam," she said. "I have my own life now, Mr. Murfee." Her chin quivered slightly, "Adam doesn't own me and maybe at one time you did—but not anymore." And she walked out with dignity.

We both watched her go, longing for her, and I felt that old feeling take hold of me, the ache in the balls and the crawl up the belly.

"God damn, what a nice piece of cunt," Murfee said. "What's she like to fuck? I would imagine she's a juicy piece."

"I wouldn't know," I said. Oh, I wanted to have Murfee think I fucked Tallulah, that she wrapped her legs around me and screamed in pleasure as I worked over her, but I couldn't lie—not about Tallulah. I realized then that she meant more to me than I wanted to admit but I wasn't sure exactly how much.

Tallulah had climbed into the buggy herself and sat stiffly, trying to control herself, to keep herself from crying. And on the ride back to the Ponderosa while she sat quietly, I tried to understand my feelings toward her, considering if I should tell her that I cared for her but then she broke the silence.

"Adam, I had an interesting and…well, an informative talk with Nancy; I asked her how I came to be in your care. I mean I knew that you had paid for me but I wanted to know why it was you. She hesitated—didn't want to tell me but the reason Murfee asked you to 'liberate' me, so to speak, was because you had money and also because he thought you would enjoy deflowering a young virgin. Nancy didn't want to tell me more but I pleaded with her and she finally told me everything, about a Chinese pimp threatening Murfee if he didn't hand over me or money. She told me about the murdered women from The Crown—more than I think now that I wanted to know." We sat in silence; I saw no reason to respond. But then Tallulah added, "I do wonder though why you never took me—you could have—but sent me away to school instead. Why did you do it? I mean take me away like that and not for your own use."

I chuckled sardonically. "Because I can't mind my own goddamn business."

"There has to be more to it than that," she said quietly.

I pulled up the horse and turned to speak to her face to face-looking at her beautiful face. She was so eager to hear something from me. I knew it was what all women what to hear—that they're loved and cherished, valued beyond price—but I couldn't say that. It was true but at the time, I couldn't say it.

"My father raised us with the belief that if a person has any power, he should wield it to protect those who have none. My father is an Old Testament man and sees that abuse of power as a deadly sin and hell and damnation will follow. I happen to agree with him—on some counts—I believe we damn ourselves but our hell is here on earth. But if I didn't always find myself in a morass of morality and did what I wanted, I would have made you my mistress despite the age difference. You were a beautiful girl and are now a stunning beauty. But I suppose you know that."

"Nancy told me that I was—that I had grown up lovelier than she had imagined, more beautiful than my mother was even, and she suggested, when I told her that I hadn't been trained for any profession in school, that I use my 'charms', as she put it, to make my way through life. She said that many women have become wealthy and powerful that way. Nancy said that I was smarter, cleverer and more desirable to men than most and she reminded me of what I had been taught before I left her and my other teachers. You see, sometimes, I was instructed to watch the couplings and learn from the women how to please a man—there are so many ways. At first, it appalled me—the idea of being that open with a man, letting him touch me in places like that and do things that were so…crude. But now I understand that it's the route to a certain type of pleasure and that type of thing a girl doesn't forget." Her eyes took on the seductive attitude that I had seen in not only the eyes of many a whore, but in many women who wanted to marry, wanted me to ask them to be Mrs. Cartwright. And then Tallulah reached out and slid her hand over my thigh and squeezed the inside with her gloved hand and I thought I'd come in my trousers; her talk had already made me hard and this was almost too much.

I must have looked surprised—or about to pounce-because Tallulah quickly removed her hand and laughed lightly. "See. There are things a girl doesn't forget. It's almost too easy. Men are so easily controlled—a touch here, a touch there, a word spoken in a certain way, sliding a tongue or a hand somewhere. I know how to make a man do what I want—and I did when I was 14 as well. Had I touched you then, slid my hand up your thigh and cupped you, would you have taken me?"

I was furious with her. How dare she toy with me—intentionally give me a raging erection and then laugh about it? But most of all, I wanted to scare her—to clear her head of any thoughts of trying to seduce me.

I grabbed her arm. "Don't practice your wiles on me, Tallulah. I'll dump your shapely ass on the road here and you can find your own way back to The Crown—that may be where you belong after all. And don't try your talents on my father or Hoss. Consider yourself warned because you don't know me. You may think it would be nice to have me keep you like some high-price courtesan but the things you'd have to do for me, to please me…well, you don't want to know." I released her and snapped the reins and the horse began with a start and Tallulah had to grab the side of the seat with one hand, her hat with the other, to keep her balance and I smiled to myself; I hoped she was shook up.

We rode in silence again and then, in a subdued voice, Tallulah apologized.

"I'm sorry, Adam. I just wanted to see how you would…I shouldn't have done what I did, especially since I owe you so much. I do apologize." I said nothing—I was still angry and my hardness hadn't yet subsided—if anything, the anger I felt made me harder and the pictures she had painted were still fresh in my imagination.

"Nancy also told me," she added, "about what's happening in Chinatown—how bad things have gotten there. She told me about the bodies of the whores and how they're found dead just about every day—opium overdoses or beaten to death. She said their life is terrible, that they're kept in pens in filthy conditions and constantly used by men."

I waited and I could see that she was watching me. I saw no reason to respond. What did the fate of Chinese whores have to do with anything? What did they have to do with Tallulah behaving like a goddamn whore with me—and my liking it.

"I've decided that I want to help them," she said quietly.

"What?" That was about the last thing I expected her to say.

"I want to help them. I think that I can do service to God by seeing that they're released from their enforced slavery. They need someone to speak for them."

I stopped the horse again and this time I was confounded; I didn't understand her at all. One minute she's a seductive bitch and the next she's an angel of mercy.

"Now let me understand this. You practiced your wiles of seduction on me and then, in practically the same breath, you're telling me that you want to serve God by emancipating the Chinese whores."

"It's not really such a contradiction. I mean…women have always been under the thumb of men, used by men. I suppose at The Crown it's similar…"

"Similar? Murfee just wanted to buy you back. Maybe you should help the whores there. Or is it that they like their work? After all, Nancy presented you with career opportunities." I knew I was being snide and hurtful but I couldn't stop myself.

"You don't have to be cruel—I would never go back to that life. I just…can you imagine what life would be like, being locked in a cage and used? It must be horrible. Can't the law do anything?"

I sighed; talking to her was like talking to an unreasonable child. I could understand Tallulah being idealistic—she had youth and inexperience on her side; I knew what that was like. When I was young and idealistic I had protested the treatment of the Paiutes and Bannocks and the Chinese. I had attended town meetings where I spouted the Constitution and spoke of equality and how the good citizens of Virginia City seemed to ignore the words on which the nation was founded. I was sarcastic and inspiring by turn. After all, weren't the Indians here first? I relished in bringing that up. Didn't we steal the land from them? Pa would duck his head at that one for he himself had run Indians off their land to enlarge the Ponderosa but I didn't care. After all, I had always urged him to return some of the land to the Paiutes. And what about the camps in which the Chinese lived as they worked for the railroad? The company store had them in debt—that was the only place they could use the script in which they were paid. It was tantamount to enforced bondage. Oh, I felt righteous and would quote the Bible as well as the Constitution and now, as young as I was, I'm surprised the men didn't shout me down but I always heard a few comments about Ben Cartwright needing to "muzzle his pup" or worse.

Oh, I wanted to change the world and saw the war as a way to do something, to fight for what I believed, to end slavery and guarantee a better life for everyone. But I came home more scornful of the concepts of freedom and equality than before I had left; men are brutes and all they really want is to have their blood thrum through their veins with excitement and then stick their cock up a woman and show how powerful they are—that's what it all comes down to—power, power over the weak and the disenfranchised. Every man wants to subjugate the world to his will—or a woman if their power or vision doesn't stretch as far.

"Listen to me, Tallulah, you don't know what you would be getting into. No, the law can't do anything about it. You have to understand that Chinese rule, the Tong, has become powerful and you're no saint with God behind you."

"Well, why do the Chinese put up with it?"

"Because they want to live in peace. Better someone else, even another Chinese be enslaved than them. You have no concept of the misery in which they live, the backbreaking work of building the railway. When life is that hard, a man can't afford sympathy for others." I could tell she didn't like what I had said; she stubbornly set her jaw. "Don't be an idiot, Tallulah, and think that you can do anything about what's going on. There are thirty men or more to every female in Chinatown so what easier way to make money then by selling whores? Hell, why do you think The Crown does so well and Pearl's Palace and the other brothels? There aren't enough available…" I stopped. I was going to say "cunts" but thought better of it. "There aren't enough available women. Do you really think that you could have any effect on any of it?"

I saw tears roll down her cheeks and she wiped them away; I had hurt her feelings. I hated to be cruel but I had to dissuade her from thinking that she could be a firebrand and single-handedly end misery and suffering. Tallulah didn't respond, just sat in silence. And I had to consider if I should do anything to keep Tallulah safe once she left the Ponderosa. I had no responsibility to her anymore so why did I feel as if I did?


	21. Chapter 21

After Tallulah and I arrived back at the Ponderosa, I kept busy; I didn't even go in for lunch. While splitting wood, I almost took off my goddamn foot—was thinking of Tallulah. I didn't know what fuckin' role I should take. When she had slid her hand inside my thigh, I took it that she wanted me but I was appalled that she would be so obvious—or was it just a game, her trying out her "powers." Was she a child or was she a woman? Did she need protecting or not? And did it have to be me? And what about her intentions to work eliminating Chinese prostitution? Was it real or just a topic to upset me? She might just as well work to eliminate alcohol and join the Temperance movement or fight for woman's suffrage. With all the things that were wrong in the world, why start with the whores and pimps in Chinatown?

I understood that with Tallulah's four years at The Saint Agnes School in her background, she would be influenced by the idea of serving God through service to man—and I couldn't help but consider that she could serve man best by falling on her back and spreading her legs, at least this man—but there were other ways.

At dinner that night, Tallulah said that she would like to go to town tomorrow and find a position, something to earn a living while she applied for a teaching job. Since Virginia City already had a teacher, Pa had suggested that she write other cities and towns and the Office of Indian Affairs, to apply for teaching jobs; she could cite him as a reference. Tallulah was pleased and grateful. I was annoyed; I didn't want her to go.

Tallulah also said that she would like to find a place to live. Did we know of any place? Hoss mentioned a boarding house on Chaffee Street, Mrs. McCaffey's place that only took women, and there was a "Rooms Available" sign out front last time he was in town. He said he would take Tallulah into Virginia City tomorrow but he was sure that she was more than welcome to stay with us for as long as she needed. Pa agreed and I stayed silent despite the fact that she looked to me for confirmation.

After dinner, Tallulah insisted on helping Hop Sing with the dishes. He declined her offer; she was a guest and should relax. But she said that she had worked at the school washing the pots and pans and she would be more than happy to help him as her way of saying thank you and in face of that, Hop Sing couldn't refuse. It was later I found out that my innocent Tallulah was quite the calculating woman; she had an ulterior motive for helping.

Pa and I were about to turn in, Hoss having gone up a few minutes before and Tallulah having been abed at least an hour, when Hop Sing asked to speak to me-alone. Pa looked a bit hurt but left us for bed.

Hop Sing's brow was furrowed with worry. "Mistah Adam, Hop Sing have troubled mind."

"Oh? What troubles you—exactly?" I felt my stomach clench. It had to be about Tallulah and I wondered if she had made some sort of pass at him while alone in the kitchen—one never knew with Tallulah; she was full of surprises but I was glad to hear it wasn't that.

"Missy Tallulah, she ask me take her Chinatown. She say she want talk to Tong leader and need me speak to him. She want use of Celestial whores to stop." I found it odd that Hop Sing would use the term "Celestial" when referring to the women who came directly from China, lured by free passage to a country with new opportunities for them—and then being forced into the flesh trade. But I suppose it was a way to distance them from other hard-working Chinese and respectable Chinese wives and daughters who had lived in this country for a long while.

"Yes, I know. She mentioned it to me as well. I told her that it was a foolish idea; she could just as easily stop the moon from rising. What did you tell her?

"I tell her Hong Fu, Tong leader, dangerous man. He slit throats." Hop Sing emphasized his words with a finger sliding across his throat. "I tell Missy forget. Teach school. Life is one way and cannot be changed. And Missy so small, Mistah Adam. Tong only need snap neck like chicken."

"Good. Maybe you scared her." I put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm turning in but thank you for telling me."

"Mistah Adam," he said quietly, "I think Missy stubborn woman. I think she still try to go."

"I think Missy stubborn woman too. I'll talk to her again."

"You not let her go see Tong, Mistah Adam. They hurt Missy!"

"No, I won't let her go." And with that promise, Hop Sing left for his room off the kitchen. And I was left with a problem. I had no control over Tallulah and knew she wouldn't listen to me; she hadn't paid heed to what I had said that morning and had tried to convince Hop Sing to take her to Chinatown. Ah, the idealism of youth!

I hadn't slept well thinking about the problem of Tallulah and when I looked in my mirror to shave, the morning sun slanting in my window, I looked as if I had been on a drunken bender; my face was puffy and my eyes, bloodshot. That's what that little bitch and her problems did to me. I began to wish I had never met her—and never grown to care so very much for her. I had to talk some sense into her or I feared I'd never sleep again for worry.

I knocked on her door and Tallulah answered, still tying her robe sash. She had obviously just woken, her face soft and relaxed; tendrils from her braid had worked their way loose during the night and fallen about her temples and face like rays of golden sunshine—she brought out my poetic nature and my lustful one as well since she smelled like bed, all warm and musky. I wanted to pull her to me, to press myself against her, overpower her and kiss her mouth and her white throat and firm breasts and then take her to the bed and mount her. And all these things ran through my mind as I stood there and looked at her.

"Adam. Good morning. I overslept. Am I late for breakfast?" She covered her mouth as she gave a slight yawn.

"No. I want to talk to you before you go to town today. Hop Sing told me that you asked him to take you to Chinatown."

Tallulah sighed and walked over to the window in her room. The sun illuminated her hair and it shone. I wanted to touch it. "I can't trust any of you, can I? I asked him not to tell you—I knew how you would react—overreact, really."

I stepped in her room and looked at the unmade bed and the clothing on the chair—a cotton chemise, corset and slips, white stockings thrown over the back. And of course, my imagination started thinking of the scenario of my waiting in the bed while she stripped off her underclothes, smiling, and then came to me. Oh, damn—sometimes I think my cock rules me-I have almost no control over it sometimes. It rises and begs for what it wants and holds me hostage to its desire to bury itself in soft, accommodating flesh.

"Hop Sing's worried about you—that's why he told me. Give up the idea, Tallulah."

She turned on me, a fiery look in her eyes. "You just don't understand! Those women need help!"

I strode over to her and grabbed her by the arm and in a low voice—as threatening as I felt I should be, I said, "You aren't Saint Agnes. You aren't any goddamn martyr to give your life for some cause. I suppose that school put ideas in your head that it's fitting to die for what you believe but they were talking about not renouncing God, not going off on some hare-brained idea of trying to solve massive problems in one fell swoop."

"Well, it's none of your business anymore, is it," she spat at me and I wanted to drag her out by her hair and threaten her with the pig sty as I had Ike and Jake but instead, I pulled her to me and kissed her, my mouth closing over hers, my arms pressing her to me and then I felt her mouth move on mine, her slender arms go about my neck and she pressed the length of her lissome body against me; I wondered if she was practiced and this was taught or if she responded to me how she truly felt. And it was that thought that caused me to stop and put her at arm's length. She looked at me—surprised.

I stepped back. "I shouldn't have done that. I apologize. I think it's a good idea for you to live at Mrs. McCaffey's—she'll look after you. But I have some advice—don't go to The Crown to see Nancy; people will talk and you'll find that men will assume the worst—what to them would be the best—that you can be bought. If you see her at all, meet her someplace neutral but my true advice is to not see her at all. Actually, I think that you should leave Virginia City, leave Nevada—there's nothing for you here but trouble."

And then she turned that beautiful face on me—that pale face with the dark eyes and that mouth that was now redder after I had kissed her. "You're here," she said. "That's why I'll stay."

Damn that girl! She said exactly what I longed to hear but I left—just walked out-didn't even have breakfast, just left to check the line shacks. The small buildings held coffee and hard tack, beans and dried beef, supplies for any hands who stayed there as they swung along the property line. I would have something to eat in the first one I reached as I needed to be alone to think things through. I didn't want Tallulah to go and I didn't want her to stay—but I did want to mount her—badly—the way a stallion mounts a mare, from behind, and kiss the back of her neck and run my lips down her spine as I bent over her. She made my head spin and my balls ache and I didn't know what to do about it. So I thought I'd work. A man can forget his troubles checking and repairing line.


	22. Chapter 22

I had intended to stay out all day and night—maybe even for a few days but I found myself drawn back home to see Tallulah. I couldn't keep myself from her. Her voice sang in my head—"You're here. That's why I'll stay…that's why I'll stay…" Oh, damn it all, Tallulah, that's why I can't stay away—because you're there with your beloved face and full mouth and eager eyes and lush body—and I want you. But I can't tell her those things.

So after dinner, Hoss was telling Pa and me the details of the day's excursion to Virginia City. "So, we got her a room at McCaffey's but, well, I didn't think I should say nothin' at dinner, but Mrs. McCaffey looked at Tallulah kinda suspicious-like and asked me who would be paying the rent—was it me. I 'bout bust out laughin'. I swear she thought that Tallulah was mine and that I'd be keepin' her there to fuck! I tell you, if she were mine, I'd be keepin' 'er upstairs in my room! And then Mrs. McCaffey starts goin' on tellin' Tallulah there'd be no male visitors in the house except maybe to pick her up to go somewhere and then they couldn't go no further than the parlor. She said more'n a few times that she ran a respectable place, that there was a 9:00 curfew every night—broken twice and a girl had to vacate. She said she wouldn't have no dirty business in her house. And then, get this—she stares at me like I was gonnna do something like fornicate with that yappy little dog she got that was humpin' my leg. I kept tryin' to shake it off and felt like pulling my gun and shootin' it 'cept I probably would've shot my foot along with it."

Pa and I chuckled. Hoss always makes me laugh at his view on things.

"How about the dressmaker?" Pa asked. "Any problems there?"

"I don't think so. Tallulah went in alone—I guess after what happened at the boardin' house she thought she better not have a chaperone, and she was in there 'bout forty minutes. You know the dressmaker, that one two storefronts down from the bank? Mrs. Fry, I believe it is who owns it. When she come back out, Tallulah didn't say much and didn't seem all that happy but she said that she got hired. I asked her what took so long and she said that she had to show them a bunch of different type of stitches." Hoss was sitting on the settee and had pulled off his boots to place his feet up on the table and I told him that the smell would peel the varnish off the table top and he said that I was lucky that he had left his socks on. "She starts work Monday so she got five days and takes her room a week later."

"Missy should stay here! She get in trouble in Virginia City. You make her stay, Mistah Adam." Hop Sing stood at the end of the settee listening to the information, his brow furrowed.

"Not me. She's a big girl now and does what she wants." I couldn't very well do what I wanted which was to put Tallulah on a train back east and forget about her and get my life back.

There was a knock on the door and Hop Sing looked at us and then went to answer. It was Brock Burgess.

"Well, hello, Brock," Pa said as he rose to greet the boy and shake his hand. I call him a boy but he was about 20 or so. His father ran a dry goods store. I remembered seeing him playing in the back of the store wearing a shit-filled diaper; his mother was always too busy helping in the store front to change him. But he was a nice enough young man—harmless enough-but I had no idea why he would come all the way out here in the early evening unless had he heard the siren's call.

"What're you doin' here, Brock?" Hoss asked, shaking Brock's hand. "Don't tell me that after meeting her you came sniffin' out Tallulah?"

Hoss' comment confirmed my suspicion. Brock laughed self-consciously and blushed beet red. He had it bad—maybe as bad as I did. To be here so quickly, he must have spent all afternoon considering what it would be like to kiss Tallulah and hold her and being a healthy boy, well, we know where his thoughts led him—to between her round thighs.

"Well, Hoss," Brock struggled to get out, "I was hoping that I might come calling on Miss Tallulah. I mean since she's staying here, I figured that I should ask your permission, well, whoever is…I mean I'd like to see her tonight for a little bit-if that's all right? We could sit on the porch. It's a nice night—a little cool but not too bad. But if you think it's too early after meeting her just today…"

"I'm basically still her guardian," I said standing up and towering in front of him. Brock wasn't particularly tall and it was enjoyable to physically intimidate him as I didn't want this kid who blushed like a virgin on her wedding night to see Tallulah. "What are your intentions?"

"Um…excuse me, sir?" He tuned his hat around and around in his hands.

"What are your intentions? Do you plan to marry Tallulah? Are your intentions honorable or do you just hope that she'll let you kiss her, feel her maybe? Is that it?"

"No…" I had Brock scared and confused—as I had intended. I wanted to daunt him so that he would leave; I was jealous, jealous because a young man found himself irresistibly attracted to Tallulah. I had to get a grip on myself.

I chuckled, implying that it was all a joke. "She's upstairs. Hop Sing, would you let Tallulah know she has a gentleman caller?" Hop Sing scuttled up the stairs.

Hoss laughed and even Pa chuckled at Brock's relief. "You had me worried there for a minute," Brock said to me with a nervous smile.

I placed my hand on Brock's shoulder and in a low voice only he could hear, I said, "Maybe I was joking and maybe I wasn't. Just watch yourself."

Tallulah was surprised to see Brock, his face soft with adoration of her and she glanced at me. We hadn't spoken since I had come in halfway through dinner and listened to her and Hoss' adventures in town, but she kept glancing at me and I didn't drop my eyes—she did. Anyway, she went out on the porch with Brock—seemed a bit reluctant to do so but did, grabbing up her shawl left by the door. It appeared that Brock hadn't made as much of an impression on her as she had on him because after about a half hour, Tallulah came in.

I was just about to go upstairs to read when Tallulah came back in. Hoss had been to bed for a while already and Pa had taken the paper to his room to read. I had decided that if Tallulah wasn't in by 9:00, I would go out on the porch and tell her to come in saying it was late, and summarily send Brock on his way. I had no right to do that but I would. A girl shouldn't seem easy.

"Throw the bolt," I told Tallulah, "Unless you plan to sneak out to see Brock. He seems smitten with you—but I can understand that; I've made that mistake myself." And then I regretted my comment as she looked grievously hurt. "I'm sorry," I said. "That was uncalled for—and cruel."

"You left before breakfast to avoid me, didn't you?" she asked quietly, pulling off her shawl and laying it over the arm of the settee.

"Yes."

"I'm not a child anymore, Adam. I thought I had shown you that on our way back from visiting Nancy…"

"All you showed me," I said, struggling to remain calm, "is that you learned your lessons well at Nancy's knee and God knows who else showed you how to get to a man aroused. You also showed me that you're confused about what you want. Brock Burgess is a fine young man. As you know, his parents own a General Store which will be his. You can join him in that business and have a fine life. You can easily encourage him—just invite him to church or dinner. Or let him kiss you. That alone should bind him to you for life."

"It didn't work with you," she said quietly.

"Are you so sure? Is that what you want?"

Tallulah didn't know how to answer me—I could see that. I considered that maybe I had been too harsh in judging her and also that my father was right; Tallulah should have never come back to Virginia City and The Crown. And when I saw her face, I knew just how vulnerable she was and in a way, that made me cruel. I can't quite explain it and it may be that it's only men who feel this way. Women, well, when they come up against weakness, it seems to bring out their nurturing side but I've seen men dispatch weak opponents because they could. In war, men begging for their lives only causes disgust to rise in the gorge and the knowledge of one's dominance and power—not mercy, and a vulnerable woman only makes a man hard and want to shove her on her back and take her, especially if she happens to be as beautiful as Tallulah. All I wanted was to run my tongue inside her thighs and feel her full breasts under my hands.

But Tallulah didn't seem to recognize how I felt; she obviously hadn't had much experience with men—obviously or she would have never allowed herself to be weak—especially around me, so she went on, her eyes large and innocent.

"No, it's not really what I want but I've found I can't get what I want…but when you kissed me, I kissed you back because I wanted to, because I'd dreamed of it all those years at school. When you left me at Saint Agnes', I wanted to run to you so much, to be with you but you left me. To comfort myself, I'd make up stories about us and those fantasies would get me through lonely times. I wondered if I'd be disappointed when I saw you again, if you weren't as handsome as I remembered. You don't look the same as I made you in my imagination—you are more so, more human. Now that I'm here, I can see that you're a man, not some fantastical character who adores me and slays all the dragons to keep me safe but you live and breathe and the warmth of your skin, the roughness of your beard and your kiss are better than anything I could ever imagine."

"You'll find as you get older that imagination in everyday life serves no purpose because life goes on no matter what we imagine and there are no knights in shining armor to rescue you and no prince to take you to a ball and fall in love with a scullery maid."

"Adam, would you kiss me again?"

"No."

"Why not? I enjoyed it and I know you did—I may still be a virgin but I know an aroused man." She moved seductively toward me. Tallulah was two people—the child who needed protecting and then the woman who had desires and needs; she must be as confused as I was. "Do you know what we girls would do in the evenings after lights out? We would talk about boys, the other girls and I, we would practice by kissing each other but I realize how those kisses were such poor imitations. There was none of the insistent passion. Your mouth was demanding. Kiss me again, Adam."

I wondered if Tallulah knew that the image of two young women kissing each other, holding each other is every man's fantasy and that It would step up my breathing and start my blood pulsing through my body because that's what it did. I broke out in a sweat as she danced closer, her mouth so close to mine. I don't know how I resisted her but I did—turned away. Later I realized that it was fear—fear of what I'd do if I kissed her. Fear that I'd sweep her up and carry her to my room and unceremoniously take her maidenhead with grunts and groans like a disinterested boar mounts a sow—all he wants is satisfaction and to feel the spine-splitting climax of release. So all I said was, "Goodnight, Tallulah." I lowered the wick on the lamp near me and went up the stairs on shaky legs. She had gotten to me but then she had worked her way into my blood the first time I laid eyes on her. Damn that girl.


	23. Chapter 23

Breakfast was routine—Tallulah was pleasant and charming and I was surly after a night of fitful sleep and Hoss, as usual, was besotted with our beautiful guest. Pa made pleasant conversation with Tallulah, asking her about Saint Agnes' school—something he hadn't yet done. She answered all his questions and elaborated on a few, probably so he wouldn't ask questions that she didn't want to answer. Breakfast was almost over when we heard a wagon come into the yard footsteps on the porch to the door. Ten the knocker landed. I reluctantly answered and when I opened the door, Mitchell from The Crown was there with three long boxes for Tallulah. We tersely exchanged a few words, he handed them to me, refusing to step inside, and then I closed the door with my foot. When Tallulah saw the boxes, she smiled and jumped up from the table.

"Those must be the dresses Nancy promised me," she said excitedly. She took the top box from me and placed it on the low table in front of the settee and lifted the top. She made a sound of admiration and lifted out yards of blue velvet and lace. Tallulah held it up against herself and smiled as she held out part of the skirt and swirled.

"What do you think?" she asked me, her eyes eager for compliments.

"It's pretty enough." I know that women put quite a bit of stock in dresses and I suppose that they can enhance a woman's beauty but it never mattered much to me; a beautiful woman is always beautiful in my eyes and Tallulah was that.

"Pretty enough!" Hoss said walking over. "Why you look beautiful—'course you'd be a beauty in any dress."

I rolled my eyes, I'm sure. He was so effusive it was embarrassing.

"I wonder what's in this one. Nancy said that I looked like a dowager in black and needed some nice dresses." I had placed the boxes on the settee and Tallulah opened the next one and it was a violet ball dress. She pulled it out and seeing at how delighted she was, I had to smile; she melted my heart.

Pa had come over as well, smiling. "Now you need to wear one of those to the street party in two weeks."

"A street party?" Tallulah looked confused.

"That's right," Hoss said. "It starts about four in the afternoon and goes on till about 10:00 in the evenin'. There're games like a shootin' gallery and a horseshoe tournament but my favorites are the cake sales and the cookie challenge—who makes the best cookie. Everybody gets to taste cookies and vote—well, until the cookies are gone and I tell you, I ain't never tasted so many good cookies in my life! Even Hop Sing enters and he's done won twice. Then there's a box social and a big barn dance—well, it's at the community building—not really a barn, but it sure is fun. Maybe Brock Burgess will ask you. I could put a bug in his ear about it." Hoss said with a wink to Tallulah. "And iffen he don't, I will. I'd sure like to take the prettiest girl this side of the Tetons to the dance."

"Oh, well…I" Tallulah didn't know how to respond so she looked at me. I knew that she wanted me to ask her to the street party but I had no intention of going.

"Whyn't you take 'her, Adam?" Hoss asked, suppressing a grin.

"That's a good idea," Pa added. "Then you can act as a chaperone should any young man—and I sure there will be quite a few buzzing around you, Tallulah—goes a bit too far and becomes fresh."

Tallulah chimed in. "Oh, would you, Adam?" She looked so eager—she looked like a young girl, the young girl I had abandoned to the care of the nuns in Baltimore. "I haven't been to a dance before. I don't even know how to dance."

"Why Adam done taught me," Hoss said, "and I'm sure he can teach you afore next week when you move to town. How 'bout this evenin', Adam?" Hoss looked at me and I knew he was damn aware of what he was doing, putting me on the spot and knew I wouldn't be able to refuse Tallulah.

"Would you, Adam? Please." Tallulah looked to me and I wanted to tell them all to go to hell and take my hat and go to town and find a whore to bury myself in. But I didn't.

"Okay," I said reluctantly. "This evening I'll show you a few basic steps. You'll have to learn the subtleties yourself, or since Hoss claims I'm such a good teacher, he can teach you the fancy steps and moves." And then I did pick up my hat and leave but it was to go out on the property, not to town to relieve myself of the fantasies that had run rampant my head last night as I had tried to sleep—Tallulah and another girl kissing each other. Of course, it only served as fodder to arouse me and I had to take matters into my own hands. Funny about the imagination, it's almost as good as having the object of one's passion there—almost as good. But worst was that I knew that Tallulah was just a few doors down and wouldn't resist me should I open her door and walk in—no, she would probably welcome me and in envisioning that, well, that was all I needed.

I was irritable all day and after snapping at some of the hands while they were working, telling Barker that he could stick one of the fencing posts up his ass, I went off by myself. I left Hoss to answer any questions as to why, as I heard one of them mumble, I was as miserable as a bear who accidentally stuck his cock in a beehive.

After dinner, Hoss pushed back the furniture and rolled up the rug. Hop Sing, who had come to clear the table, stopped so that he could watch. I could see Tallulah was excited and I tried not to be as I took her in my arms. But when I put my hand on her back and held her small hand in mine, she looked at me and I was surprised at her expression; I wondered if I was flattering myself by thinking she adored me as her face seemed to reveal.

"Now, you can either hold your skirt or rest you hand on my upper arm." Tallulah rested her hand on my arm lightly. "A little closer on this side." I pulled her in and she seemed to melt into me and my thoughts went to erotic ideas but I was determined to remain distant—at least emotionally. "Now, most waltzes have the same tempo—a ¾ time."

"What does that mean?"

"Basically, the melody goes one-two-three, one-two-three—like this." I pulled her slightly closer and moved her around the floor. She seemed resistant at first. "You have to let me lead," I said.

"Lead?"

"Yes."

"How do I do that?"

"Basically, you just relax your torso and I'll indicate in what direction we'll go. Now, just soften a bit but keep your wrist and elbow firm." And she did. "Now when I step forward, you step back—yes, like that. When I step back, you step forward. Feel my hand on your back—I'll guide you with it. It's subtle but I'll give you slight pushes and then let up—like this." We moved around the floor while I repeated, "one-two-three, one-two-three," turning her in large counter-clockwise circles and Tallulah smiled joyfully and laughed and so did I. Damn, she was so beautiful, so light and she took to dancing as if it was second nature, her step light and perfectly matched to mine.

"Adam," Hoss said. "Why don't you pluck us a tune on that guitar of yours and let me have a chance to dance?" Hoss stood beside me and held out his arms. "May I have the pleasure, Miss Tallulah?"

Pa laughed and I stopped dancing but I didn't want to give up Tallulah, give up looking down at her and seeing her smile up at me, give up feeling her so close, her thigh often touching my leg but I had no choice because the door knocker hit once and then Joe and Aggie walked in.

"What's going on here?" Joe asked. "Why's the furniture all moved back?" He grinned when he saw Tallulah and came over to her. "Well, I heard that you were back from school, Tallulah. Do you remember me?"

Well, I won't go into details but Tallulah said that she certainly did remember him and then she smiled. I couldn't decide exactly what the smile was to convey—friendliness or availability but it didn't matter to Joe; he likes pretty women and Tallulah in particular. I groaned inwardly. And Aggie fumed. Hoss, Pa and I perfunctorily kissed Aggie as welcome and Hop Sing came out grining with coffee.

"Where are the twins?" Pa asked.

"They're at Aggie's parents—spending the night so we thought we'd stop by to welcome Tallulah back home." Joe had yet to take his eyes from Tallulah and grinned. "So, Adam, get that guitar of yours and make yourself useful." Joe pulled off his hat and tossed it on the settee and then followed it with his jacket. Then he unbuckled his gun belt and coiled it and placed it on the padded cushion, all without taking his eyes from Tallulah except for a few seconds. It occurred to me that Joe might be seducing Tallulah—perhaps not intentionally as women have always tripped over their own feet to get to him first but Tallulah—to my knowledge—had never been seduced by a man and she was vulnerable. Well, maybe I flattered myself but it occurred to me that after my refusing her, Talllah might want to be consoled by Joe. "Now, Tallulah," he said, "you don't want to be taught to dance by these two old men. Why Adam's so old he still thinks we're dancing minuets and Hoss, why if he steps on your foot, it'll be flatter than one of Hop Sing's pancakes-which he wolfs down three at a time. Let someone who knows how, teach you to dance."

I exchanged looks with my father and then I glanced at Aggie. She sat on one on the chairs and sipped her coffee and fumed. I knew that she would give Joe hell tonight but then he deserved it. But yet, Aggie knew what Joe was like when she married him. Aggie had considered herself fortunate to have won Joe, the most charming of all the Cartwright sons; our old man still held the top honor. Joe was handsome, wealthy and moved like a panther on the dance floor and the women had been vying for his attentions all his life. He had been falling in love with a new woman almost every day before Aggie won his heart and the other female hearts in Virginia City were broken. Aggie reigned triumphant but Joe's irrepressible; charm oozed from him like molasses beyond his control and he still turned to watch a shapely ass in a pretty skirt go by.

"C'mon, Adam," Joe said, "play something for us to dance to so I can show this little lady here how to dance…properly." Joe smiled at Tallulah and she smiled back but glanced over at me. I went for my guitar.

I tested the strings and then began playing "Down in the Valley." Joe began moving Tallulah around the floor and I have to admit that he was smooth on his feet—almost as smooth as he was with a compliment—and then, after a few seconds, I began to sing the verses and Tallulah stopped and stared at me. I stopped playing.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I've never heard you sing before. I didn't know that you could. Sing some more would you?" She released Joe and came over to me where I sat on the edge of a chair. "Please." And I sang the song and when I was finished, my family politely applauded, I nodded in acknowledgement and Tallulah surprised me—she bent down and kissed my cheek. "Thank you," she said softly, her eyes moist with emotion. "That was beautiful."

"You're welcome," I replied. I swear I would do anything for her—just about anything. Ask me to fall down at your feet and beg you for your love, Tallulah, and I'll do it. Oh, I should have kissed her last night. I should have taken her and reveled in her youth and desirability. I should have shown her what pleasures so many women already knew, so many had experienced. Oh, my Tallulah, my little love.

Well, the rest of the evening was uneventful. Hoss danced with Tallulah while I played "Shady Grove," and she laughed until she was breathless as Hoss quickly moved her in circles across the floor in time with the music. Then even Pa danced with Aggie while Joe danced with Tallulah while I played "Oh, Shenandoah," a slower dance. I played two more pieces of varying tempo and then claimed I had had enough so I finished with "Goodnight, Ladies," and Hoss insisted on ending the dance lesson with Tallulah in his arms so Joe danced with Aggie. I think Joe realized that Aggie would have a few things to say on their way home so he tried his best to be charming to her.

Aggie told Joe it was time to go but Joe wanted to stay longer. Nevertheless, they left, Aggie finally grabbing onto Joe's arm and practically dragging him out the door. Then Tallulah said goodnight and I watched her as she went up the stairs and as Hoss and I put the furniture back in place, he said, "I had a better time than at a real dance. That Tallulah, she's somethin' else ain't she?"

"Yeah," I said. "She's something else all right."


	24. Chapter 24

I lay in the dark staring at the ceiling when there was a knock at my door and I knew it was Tallulah; I considered whether or not to open it. I put on my robe and opened the door and just as I thought, Tallulah stood with a lamp in her hand.

"Looking for an honest man, Tallulah? You've come to the wrong door."

"What?" she asked, truly puzzled. Apparently her education never covered Diogenes so I told her it was nothing and then asked her what she wanted; I wouldn't let her in, not that she asked to be let in but I stood leaning against the door, blocking the way.

"Since you have banking business in town tomorrow morning, I was wondering of you would take me with you. I need to have the dresses that Nancy sent altered."

"You're good with a needle—good enough to secure a job. Why can't you do it?"

"I can't fit them myself. I need someone else to do it."

I considered and took a deep breath, trying to gauge if there was any calculation behind those large, dark eyes of hers. "Okay, but we're not visiting The Crown. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good night then." I started to close the door but then she spoke my name and I stopped.

"Adam."

"What, Tallulah? I'm really tired."

"Thank you for the dancing lessons."

"Seems that Hoss and Joe gave most of them but you're welcome. Now go to bed." And I closed the door in her face. I considered turning the key. Hoss was right—I was afraid of a "bitty girl"—scared shitless.

On the way to town, Tallulah was well behaved and so was I but I was still a bit tense. We talked about the weather—it was warm.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And oft his gold complexion dimm'd,

And every fair from fair declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest.

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee."

"Why that's beautiful," Tallulah said, awed. "Did you write it?"

I laughed and shouldn't have because she looked hurt but her naiveté was amazing—or she thought too much of me. I wasn't sure which it was.

"No," I said, "I wish I had the talent but that was written 200 years ago by William Shakespeare. When I was young, I memorized quite a few love poems—they helped me to seduce the 'fair maids'. I found that girls liked poetry whether they understood it or not—the more idealistic the girl, the more she loved the smooth words of a poet. Besides, a poem helped when I found I had nothing else to say to her."

"Is that why you repeated it to me? Because you have nothing else to say or because you want to seduce me?' Ah, Tallulah may be ignorant of Shakespeare's sonnets but she knew how to get around a man—or at least me; she used my own words as weapons against me.

"No, it's just that it seemed appropriate since we were talking about how hot it is. That's all."

We rode in silence for a bit and then Talluah asked me about square dancing; she didn't understand the calls that Hoss had talked about last night and asked if perhaps one night before the street party, she could practice square dancing. I explained that a professional caller was needed for that and I wasn't one. But, I added, Hoss liked square dancing and upon occasion had even called a few when we had held parties at the Ponderosa. If the weather was obliging, the guests danced outside and Hoss' voice was loud enough to be heard even in the next county. "He can explain to you," I told her, "what do-si-do means and allemande left or right."

"Don't you like to square dance?" she asked me.

"I don't mind a Virginia reel or such but some of the calls, well, I have to stop and think and it gets problematic."

"Oh, you mean there's something you don't know how to do?' she asked me with a sly smile.

I had to give her one; I suppose that I did seem a know-it-all in many ways but I was determined to remain good-natured. "There are quite a few things I don't know how to do, Tallulah. Quite a few." And as I sat, Tallulah slid a bit closer and slipped her arm through mine and then looked ahead and remarked again what a beautiful day it was, albeit a little warm. "Too hot the eye of heaven shines," she quoted. I looked at her sweet profile, her blonde hair pinned up, the straw boater perched on top giving her a piquant air, and I thought how absolutely pure and lovely she was—a joy to see and so I just smiled, enjoying her closeness, and continued to drive the horse on the road to town.

The waiter refilled my coffee cup and asked again if I wanted to order. I told him no; I was still waiting for the young lady who was late. He smiled and joked that women seemed to think that if they weren't late, they weren't being women. I forced a chuckle; I had a sick feeling. Tallulah was to meet me at the Imperial House for lunch at 11:00 but she was late. I had pulled up in front of the dressmaker's, carried in the dress boxes and Mrs. Fry greeted us. Tallulah introduced us and then I left to see Myers at the bank. And now I was waiting.

I pulled out my pocket watch again and checked the time. Tallulah was twenty minutes late but perhaps she was being shown around the dress shop or doing some needlework to earn money. Or maybe she was shopping—I tried to think of all the innocuous reasons that Tallulah might be late. I began to consider going to The Crown to see if she had gone back on her word and visited Nancy. I would drag Tallulah out by her lovely blonde hair if she was there and as I sat and thought, I became more anxious. I was about to leave to look for her when Roy Coffee and his Chinese deputy, Luke, came in. I saw them scanning the room. I felt as if I had been punched in the gut. I stood up and headed toward them; I knew they were looking for me and I knew it was about Tallulah.

"Adam, glad we found you," Roy said as we walked toward each other.

"It's Miss Mason, isn't it?" I looked back and forth at Roy and Luke's faces and they both looked guilty of something.

"Yes." Roy paused and Luke looked down. "I think it's bad. Luke, let Adam here see that note. Some rag-tag young Chinese boy—looked like a scared rabbit-gave it to me on the street and then took off running just as fast as his feet could take him."

"All right," Luke said, handing me the paper, "but it's in Chinese, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Well, Luke'll tell you what it says. He had to tell me."

I looked at the paper with its Chinese lettering while Luke translated. Basically, it said that a Miss Mason had given Adam Cartwright as her nearest relative and that as such, he owed the Tong $5,000 in lost profits. In one hour Miss Mason would be put to work to make up for the loss.

My bowels turned to water with fear. "What the hell did she do?" I handed the note back to Luke. Tallulah had obviously gone to Chinatown and gotten herself into trouble so deep that I hoped I could get her out.

"It doesn't say," Luke replied. "But I think you need to pay—don't quibble as this is from Hong Fu himself-and we need to get there as quickly as possible; Hong Fu means what he says."

I went to the bank and took out the money; Myers was reluctant when I told him I wanted cash-insisted that it wasn't safe, but I brooked no argument and he had the clerk count out 50 hundred dollar bills. Roy, Luke and I rode to the edge of Chinatown and left our horses tied to a hitching post in front of a little shop that sold pots and pans and walked through the labyrinthine streets, passing vendors who called out to us to buy their wares while the other pedestrians stared at us. It was hot and the smoke from the braziers where food was cooked hung heavy in the still air. Dogs roamed looking for dropped food and we shoved them from our path. Small children, barefoot and wearing oversized tunics, stood by their mothers and stared at us. Finally we reached the part of town where the Tong hall had been built, the most impressive structure in Chinatown. It had a paved walkway and arches. We approached and I pounded on the double red doors. A small window opened in a door and a man looked out, then opened the door and stood. He spoke in Chinese to Luke who bowed, handed over the note and waited for the man to read. Then, again in Chinese, Luke explained what we wanted, gesturing toward me and Roy and then the man looked us up and down, glowering at us. He said something else in a curt voice and Luke turned to us.

"You must give him your guns if you want to go in." Luke pulled his gun and handed it, butt end first, to the man who waited.

"Now, I'm the law," Roy said, "and I'm not giving up my gun to anyone." Roy's jaw jutted out but I handed my gun over.

The Chinese man waited, not moving.

"Sheriff Coffee," Luke said, "you can't come in with it."

Roy considered and he replied, "I'll go wait with the horses and if you aren't back in an hour, well, I'll come looking for you two."

I wasn't comforted by the thought that Roy and his gun were gone as Luke and I were led through a narrow hall to a back room which had no windows and was lit by lanterns and candles. Four men, two against each side wall and armed with knives and swords, waited and watched. Sitting in a large, carved, rosewood chair with images of dragons and a Phoenix rising from in the middle of the carving over the high back, was a man who showed no emotion but he did speak English. He was dressed in robes of red and gold, dragons embroidered on the wide sleeves. I imagine he considered himself a Celestial Emperor.

He ignored Luke and spoke to me. "You are Mr. Cartwright then?"

"Yes, I am. You must be Hong Fu."

"Yes, I am he. Have you come to compensate me for my losses due to the woman who tried to prevent my customers from reaching their desired purchase? If you do not have the money to give me, you may as well leave and I will open the door to the woman's pen and let the customers, who are already lined up by the way, use her; she will not resist. Actually, I believe the time is almost up for her to be given back to you—at any price. She will be a novelty to the men who are hungry for a woman. I suppose for one of your race she is considered beautiful but a woman's cunt is like any other I have found. You should save your money, Mr. Cartwright, and buy yourself another woman—one more compliant to a man's wishes."

"I have the money. Here." I pulled out the folded bills and one of the guards came and took it and handed the bundle to Hong Fu who calmly and slowly counted out the bills. I knew he was intentionally dragging it out.

Hong Fu looked over at us. "Very good, Mr. Cartwright, but I think that I would have made more money putting her to work for me. Perhaps I will give you back your money and keep her."

I ignored him—he was trying to anger me. "Where can I find her?" I asked. I wanted to drag Hong Fu off his damned "throne" and bash in his face but I knew I had to control myself; it wouldn't do to anger him or to show I was upset. He had the upper hand as long as he held Tallulah.

"First you must listen." He leaned forward, one fist on his thigh and he pointed the index finger of the other hand at me. "The woman, she stood and told the customers to stay away from my whores—that they shouldn't use them or pay for them." He sat back and spat to the side of him. "Stupid whore. The men didn't understand what she was saying but she talked on and frightened them. She scared the mice away but she didn't know that the tiger was waiting. Not all men are mice with tiny cocks. My men told me what she was doing so I ordered her brought before me. She was afraid—not so brave anymore but she still talked. She had to be silenced so I did."

I wondered what he meant and I thought I'd choke on my fear that he had ripped out her tongue. But my fear turned to anger the more he talked. Luke kept looking at me and I suppose he was hoping that I kept my mouth shut or Tallulah would be lost to us, at least for the time being; it was the only thing that kept me in check.

"So now," Hong Fu continued," she is seeing what it is like to work for Hong Fu and to know the taste of mice and their tiny cocks. And you know, magistrate," he said leaning forward again and addressing Luke, "the woman came to my property and interfered with my business; she came willingly and would not be quiet nor leave when asked. Justice has been done—our justice. In the book that talks about your God, it says that an eye for an eye—that is what I have done." He snapped his fingers at one of the men standing guard. "Take the two mice before me to see the now silent, round-eyed woman. Hand her over to them."

One of the men motioned for us to follow him and Luke grabbed my arm. "Thank him."

"The hell I will. I just want to get Tallulah and go."

"Thank him. It is important that things are done properly." Luke was serious—I knew that so I did as he bid.

I turned and told Hong Fu "Thank you," although I tasted bile as the words came out. He nodded and then Luke and I followed the man out of the back of the building, our guns were given back to us, and a few moments later, we were on a narrow street that was lined with wooden boxes or cribs about four feet high by six feet long and five feet wide, that had small barred windows in the bolted front doors. Two men took the money from customers and pulled the bolt on the small doors. The men would then bend down and practically crawl inside to get to the woman lying on a dirty mattress. We could hear some cries from the women and some noises from the boxes but I couldn't recognize any of the voices as Tallulah's. But then I saw the group of men standing at one crib, many bent down to see inside and talking rapidly among themselves.

I stated to push and shove my way through the people in the narrow street and began to pull the men away; I was sure that it was Tallulah inside as the men, when they saw who had jerked them aside, stepped away and turned and left. I unbolted the door and saw her and caught my breath.

As soon as I stuck my head inside, the stench made me reel. Tallulah lay on a pile of filthy mattresses in her chemise and petticoats; her dress was gone and the fabric of the petticoats was pushed up to her thighs, her stockings and shoes gone. She moaned slightly and I pulled her out to me and lifted her up; her legs were weak and she couldn't stand. Her head lolled backwards, her blonde hair falling in single curls from her pinned-up hair. Her lower lip was split and raw while a bruise ran along the left side of her face. I called her name and she had trouble focusing but weakly replied, "Adam? I'm sorry." Then Luke held up her left arm and pointed to the inside of her elbow.

"Look, Adam." I did and saw a fresh bruise and in the center was a small pin prick. They had shot her up with opium more than likely so that she wouldn't resist any of the men who climbed on top of her and spread her thighs and to shut her up. I held her close to me and as quickly as I could, I carried her out of Chinatown and to my horse, Luke following and keeping an eye out for anyone who might think to prevent us from leaving. And when we reached the horses, Roy Coffee was waiting.

"She okay, Adam?" Roy said, his brow furrowed with concern. "I was gettin' ready to round up a posse and go looking for you two if you hadn't returned soon."

"Here," I said, giving Luke Tallulah to hold while I mounted my horse. "I'm taking her to Paul's. She's been drugged. I hope that's all."

Luke handed Tallulah up to me and cradling Tallulah in my arms, I rode the distance to Dr. Martin's. And once she was safely in his surgery, it hit me full force—what had almost happened to Tallulah. Something had to be done to prevent anything like this happening again and I knew that I had to do it.


	25. Chapter 25

Paul washed Tallulah's lip with antiseptic and as I watched, he stitched shut the swollen, split flesh. The opium muted the pain of the needle but it was muting Tallulah that was the problem; she kept talking to me albeit, slurring her words, saying she was sorry over and over and asking if I was angry at her. I stood at the head of the table and held her head firmly, one hand on each side, and reassured her repeatedly that I wasn't angry and finally, I had to threaten her that I would leave if she didn't be quiet and keep still. Then she stopped talking and closed her eyes, the tears escaping and rolling down her cheeks.

Finally, Tallulah fell back asleep and while she slept, I washed her face, neck and arms with a warm cloth. She would stir occasionally, move in her sleep, and I would wait, holding my breath until she settled down again. What I really wanted to do was hold her next to me, to feel her against me—I fully realized how much she meant to me. Tallulah had completely captured my heart. Oh, she'd always had part of it but now it was all hers. I asked Paul if he thought she had been violated—I couldn't bring myself to use a harsher word like rape; I didn't want to make it real by saying it out loud. Paul said that he would have to examine her which he needed to do anyway, and asked me to step outside the surgery; he would come out and talk to me when he was through.

Roy, Luke and I were sitting in the outer room of Paul's office where patients waited to see him. Thankfully, no one else was there as I don't think I could have abode it, someone talking about their misery in their joints or a head cold—not with what Tallulah had survived. Finally Paul came out.

"Well, I examined her, she's still not able to talk about what happened—she's basically still unintelligible. But it looks as if no crime has occurred beyond assault and battery, the beating and the opium injection."

I sighed and sat back. Tallulah had been spared the worst that could have happened. "Well, that's a relief. She'll have a hard enough time dealing with what did happen."

"Adam," Roy said, standing up, "you want to press charges for Miss Mason? Assault? Battery? I can make a case for kidnapping too. I'll go in with a posse and arrest Hong Fu and drag that son-of a-bitch out by his ponytail."

I considered. I wanted to see Hong Fu locked up but more than that, I wanted to beat his fucking face to a bloody pulp and then send him on his way to hell. Nevertheless, he would probably only serve six months for assault and probably a consecutive term for kidnapping—if that could even be proved. Then Hong Fu would be out. But I knew that as soon as he was arrested, I would have to watch my back. And there was Tallulah. And my whole family. And Hop Sing's family. And Roy. And Luke.

"No," I said quietly. "No charges."

"Adam," Roy said, talking to me in that paternal way he had, "you can't let that Hong Fu get away with this. Just say the word and I'll have his ass in my jail."

Roy has known me since I was about 13 and he always saw me, no matter how old I was, as a child. I know what that's like—I still see Joe as a small boy striving for the affection from a female that he lost along with his mother and I still see Tallulah as the young girl I knew four years ago. Therefore, I always keep my patience with Roy as I know he cares about me and had once told me long ago that if he had a son he would want him to be like me; that had almost moved me to tears. So I replied with forbearance, "No, Roy. I appreciate it but no."

Roy shook his head and then told Luke that they may as well go. "I hope that Miss Mason recovers just fine, Adam—keep me updated, would you? And if she decides she wants to press charges, let me know." He walked out.

But before Luke left, he said quietly to me, "I wouldn't say this to Roy—he's a brave man and to him, the law is one thing that should be enforced no matter what, but I think you made the best decision. The dragon has many coils and they choke his enemies and the head is so far from the tail that it can claim no knowledge of the tail's actions."

I smiled slightly; small consolation. Luke left and Paul put his hand on my shoulder.

"When can she leave?" I just wanted to have Tallulah safely ensconced at the Ponderosa.

"Give her about two, maybe three more hours. She won't be herself but she'll be well enough to travel."

I thanked Paul and said that I would be back; I had to rent a buggy and find clothes for Tallulah—and Nancy at The Crown would have some.

I think all women have a 6th sense off which men are devoid because Nancy said that she had a dream about me the night before in which I had brought Tallulah to her and told her to take care of her. But she knew as soon as she saw me that something was wrong and she knew it was Tallulah; of course, why else would I be at The Crown in the early afternoon? To get fucked? I found I was angry—and I wanted to take it out on Nancy, to spit out snide insults but I held in my feelings. After all, I needed her help and although I was certain she wouldn't deny Tallulah assistance just to get back at me, I wanted to have things go smoothly and leave. I told Nancy briefly what happened but held back on the opium; I didn't know what Tallulah would want me to share about her. Nevertheless, I said that Tallulah's clothing had been torn and that she needed a dress and perhaps some shoes although I had no idea of her size. Nancy left me and came back about fifteen minutes later with a simple gingham dress, a bonnet and a pair of flat leather slippers. She said they would probably fit and even if they weren't a perfect fit, as long as Tallulah wasn't walking far, they would serve.

"The bonnet will hide her face from people who might be looking; they won't see the bruise." I thanked her. "What are you going to do about her?" Nancy asked.

"It's not my place to do anything about her. That's up to Tallulah—not me. I have no control over what she does."

"You know that's not true. I could tell you that Tallulah loves you—but you already know that. It may be she only thinks she loves because she doesn't really know any other men or it may be that she truly does love you. Who knows? Just be gentle with her; Tallulah has delicate sensibilities and thinks the world of you, Adam." Nancy turned and left me standing there in the foyer of The Crown. She was right. I knew that Tallulah loved me and if I told her to go back east, she would be devastated by my rejection of her. If she stayed in town, I would be frantic with worry for her, wanting to see her, wanting to listen to her voice as she told me of her day—wanting to hold her in my arms and kiss her mouth, her pliant, soft accommodating mouth. But most of all, I would want to feel her bare skin under my hands, next to my chest and belly and have her clasp me in a lover's embrace and moan under me as she trapped me between her legs. I loved that girl.

I had to help Tallulah dress as her legs were wobbly and she couldn't get her arms through the sleeves. It was odd to see her so lethargic although I could tell she was trying to focus. Her lip was swollen and odd-looking with the black stitches. I had split my lip years ago and Joe had split and stitched lips twice but it looked so out of place on Tallulah, especially along with the bruise on her cheek.

Paul and I walked Tallulah to the buggy and helped her up but she resisted us the whole way. She held onto the edge of the seat while I climbed in the other side and she swayed slightly; she was still obviously under the influence of the opium to some degree. From what I knew, opium made people compliant and passive but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Tallulah; she became slightly belligerent.

"Thanks, Paul," I said and snapped the reins and we headed to the Ponderosa.

We were out a half hour when Tallulah grabbed my arm. "Stop. Please." I pulled up the horse and Tallulah leaned over the side of the buggy and violently retched. She sobbed and then retched some more. I held onto her while she leaned over and I could feel the strain in her body. Finally, I pulled her to me, pulled out my handkerchief and wiped her mouth.

"Oh, Adam. I was so stupid—so very stupid. You told me but I thought I knew better. Oh, Adam." She held on to my shirt front and cried.

I wanted to tell her that yes, she had been stupid but I couldn't. She was my wounded angel and I couldn't hurt her more. So I just started up the horse and Tallulah leaned against me and shut her eyes.

"We'll be home soon, Tallulah."

Pa was there when we arrived home and between him and Hop Sing fussing over her, her inability to find the stairs with her feet, I managed to basically drag Tallulah upstairs and onto her bed where she collapsed. She looked up at me and thanked me again and I smiled down at her—it wasn't much of a smile but it had to do.

"What the hell happened, Adam?" Pa asked once we were back downstairs.

"Pour me a drink—better pour one for yourself too-and I'll tell you."

Tallulah's bruises were hard to see; every time I saw her, I couldn't help but think what she had gone through and I would again see her lying on the filthy mattresses and the stench seemed to stay in my nostrils—and I would become enraged again. I dreamed about it, that she was reaching out to me through the bars and I couldn't open the crib and let her out-and I would wake up in a sweat, my heart pounding over how close she had come to being used by the men waiting to get at her. But I knew the bruises would fade to yellow and slowly disappear. Paul would soon remove the stitches and Tallulah would be as beautiful as before but she wouldn't be the same; she had already changed. There wasn't the innocence anymore, the desire to change the world. Hong Fu had stolen it from her and for that alone, I wanted to kill him but I knew that eventually, someone would take him down—someone-and perhaps, I could find that someone and help him financially or any other way desired. It was possible to take down Hong Fu—Hop Sing had implied as much; "Tigers make enemies and not all men in Chinatown are mice. Some are younger tigers waiting to grow claws sharper and longer." He had looked at me in a conspiratorial manner and I put my hand on his shoulder. I told him that I would help the young tiger grow claws in any way I could and Hop Sing nodded.

Tallulah often ran her tongue against the bump of flesh in her lower lip. I told her it would go down in a few months and in a year, she would barely be able to feel it. But Tallulah was uncomfortable around me and dropped her eyes whenever I spoke to her and avoided being alone with me. I suppose she was embarrassed as I had seen her in such a bad state.

It was at dinner two days later when Tallulah falteringly brought up starting work at the dressmaker's. "I can't continue to live off your charity."

Pa argued with her as did Hoss—it wasn't charity, my father said, but hospitality. Tallulah said that if she didn't go in to work for her first day, she would be fired and she already owed Mrs. Fry for altering her dresses. She would work in the back of the shop, she said, so it didn't matter that her face was still bruised and her lip still had stitches. She would tell Mrs. Fry she fell off a horse and no one would question it. Then Tallulah looked to me and said, "Would you take me into town tomorrow morning, Adam? I should be there early since it'll be my first day."

"No."

Pa and Hoss looked at one another and I could tell that Tallulah was taken aback as well. I think she wanted to speak to me alone under the sky, out in the open where no one else could hear our exchange. She hadn't yet talked to me alone and I wouldn't go to her room to talk to her—not after what she had been through and she didn't come to me. I suppose we were at odds with one another.

"No?" she repeated.

"No." Silence reigned and no one spoke or raised a fork but just sat.

Then Hoss spoke up. He couldn't bear to see people upset and I had to admire that Hoss had developed a friendship with Tallulah although he had confided to me that sometimes when he looked at her, he still wondered what it would be like to climb on top of her and pound away.

"I'll drive you in, Tallulah. Just tell me what time you want to leave and I'll have the buggy ready and waitin'." Tallulah thanked him and we continued to eat with my father making small talk about how Virginia City had grown and all three of them kept glancing at me as I calmly finished my meal.

I came home early for lunch leaving Joe and the foreman in charge. I needed to find out how things had gone with Tallulah that morning. Hoss was by the barn saddling up his horse.

"I was just comin' out to help you," he said. "I was even gonna skip Hop Sing's lunch and eat beans and bacon with the hands but they'll be enough lunch left for later since ain't no one but Pa eatin' and I ain't even sure 'bout him." Hoss's face was grim and his lips were tight.

"What do you mean? What happened?" I looped my horse's reins over the hitching rail.

"Adam, I started driving Tallulah into town this mornin' but the closer Tallulah got to town, the more edgy she got. Finally, she was shakin' like a leaf and white as paper. She begged me to stop the buggy and then she climbed out afore I could even get down to help her. She just started walking back and forth and kept tryin' to catch her breath sayin' she couldn't breathe none. Adam, she was panicking—I seen deer do that afore—not know in which direction to go and that's what she was like. She kept sayin' she couldn't go, she couldn't go. Adam, I think she's 'fraid to go to town 'cause of what happened. Then she begged me to take her back to the Ponderosa or she'd walk back, she said and grabbed ahold of me and begged me. I swear, Adam, she was near scared to death—broke my heart. So I brought her back and she's been up in her room the whole time. You can hear her just walkin' back and forth. Pa tried to talk to her but she wouldn't have nothn' to do with him or Hop Sing—just asked to be left alone. I'm glad you're home. Maybe you can say somethin' to her, somethin' nice."

Without a word, I left Hoss and went into the house.

"Adam," Pa said but I didn't stop, just pulled off my hat and took the stairs two at a time to Tallulah's door.

I rapped twice and called out Tallulah's name. "Open up."

After a few moments the door opened and Tallulah stepped back and then dropped her head. "Don't look at me, Adam. I can't even bear to look in the mirror. And I'm such a fool."

"Bruises fade, your lip will heal and you'll be your lovely self again. And you're no fool." I tried to keep my voice calm—Hoss had asked that I say something nice.

"No, I won't ever be my 'lovely' self again, if I ever was. Did you hear what happened on the ride to town? I couldn't go to town, was terrified to go—begged Hoss to bring me back."

"That'll pass. It'll take time but 'this too shall pass'"

"Will it?" She looked up at me. "I don't know. It started as soon as I walked out the door. That was the first time I'd been outside since this whole…I wanted to run back inside and lock myself in this room, never going out again. I thought that I could force myself to go on, thinking that once I was at work, I would be fine but I couldn't do it. I wanted to be here, to the only place I feel safe. I'm such a coward, Adam." And she began to cry again and I took her in my arms; she was so small, so defenseless. I almost sighed in relief that she hadn't gone into town; Tallulah was safe here.

"You're a brave girl. You're my brave girl." I stroked her hair. "I should have driven you but I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay here because I was afraid."

"You were afraid?' She looked up at me and I pulled my handkerchief out of my back pocket and handed it to her.

"Tallulah, what happened to all those handkerchiefs I gave you? You never seem to have one on you."

She smiled slightly as she wiped her eyes and her nose. "They're too beautiful to use. Besides, they're from you so I keep them as special. Why were you afraid?"

I pushed hair back from her face. "I was afraid that something might happen to you, that Hong Fu might come for you or that you might go to The Crown and stay with Nancy and Murfee…something, anything…I'm the one who's such a goddamn coward that I couldn't even come up and talk to you."

"Oh, Adam. Do you know why I went to Chinatown and all that? To show you that I was a grown woman and knew my own mind. I thought that if I meant what I said and you saw that, well, you would realize that I was an adult and then you would believe me when I said I loved you. But all I did was show how foolish I was. I suppose I'm not the mature, intelligent woman I thought I was."

"Tallulah, I'm taking the chance of possibly making a fool of myself but…I do love you. I love you more than I can express in words but I'm old enough to be your father and you're so young and deserve so much better, so much better than me."

"There is no better than you so how could I want anything better?"

She meant it. Her eyes reflected the purity of her love—no conniving, no ulterior motive. She loved me and I knew it.

"You don't have to marry me, Adam, I understand, but please, don't send me away, don't push me away. I'll be yours no matter what. Actually, I'm already yours, you just haven't claimed me."

"It seems that I should kiss you but…well, it might hurt."

Tallulah smiled up at me. "Just be gentle."

So I kissed her. "Oh, my Tallulah," I whispered, "I love you, I do. Will you be mine? Legally?"

"That depends. Are you going to marry me or adopt me?"

She made me laugh and it seemed that I hadn't laughed in such a long time and Tallulah brought me ease. "Trust me, Tallulah, I don't feel the least bit paternal." I held her lovely face in my hands and kissed her gently again, and again. I had no idea how things would work out, if in ten years her love for me would die or if she would be with me to the end but it didn't matter. "Now" was all that mattered—and Tallulah. And I was determined to be happy. So I kissed her again knowing she would be my bliss.

~ Finis ~


End file.
